


Pink Lemonade

by lovemesomewalking



Category: South Park
Genre: F/M, Gen
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-07-30
Updated: 2017-08-30
Packaged: 2018-02-11 00:21:35
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 15
Words: 97,810
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2045895
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lovemesomewalking/pseuds/lovemesomewalking
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The good thing about this cast is I can still hold a knife.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Funny You Should Ask (intro)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Wendy and Kenny go to an anime convention. Intro.

"So what did you say you tried last night?"

"Uh, one of the chocolate bars. Oh, and the Rice Krispie treat."

Kenny unzipped his backpack and started digging around inside. "How'd they work?" he asked as he reached above his head, turning on the car's overhead light to illuminate the vehicle's dark interior. They had parked deep in the parking garage, as far away from other cars as they could.

"Eh," Wendy shrugged. "The chocolate only got me a little buzzed and I'm pretty sure the Rice Krispie treat was a total dud."

"Weird. How much did you take?"

"Like a whole dose of each. I think you might've gotten ripped off, dude; somebody sold you some weak shit."

Kenny tossed a sweatshirt from his bag into the back seat of the car and removed two 20 oz. beverages. "Well, this stuff should be better," he spoke as he uncapped a bottle and handed it to the girl. "I had half a bottle of the grape juice last night and felt like I was floating through space."

"How did it taste?" Wendy asked, skeptically eying the bottle of pink liquid Kenny had passed her. A dopey looking lemon smiled up at her from the label. She took a sip.

"Like shitty grape juice tying to hide the taste of pot, how do you think? How's that one taste?"

"Surprisingly," Wendy started before pausing to take another drink, draining about half of the bottle. "Like pink lemonade."

* * *

Kenny and Wendy emerged from the parking garage, both shielding their eyes from the early morning sun. Looking at each other, they began to walk in the direction of South Park's Airport Hilton.

"I've never been here, have you?" Kenny asked as the two walked side by side towards the towering building.

"A few times during high school," Wendy answered. "Usually for stuff like Model UN. Isn't this where Eric held that big ginger pride rally that one time Stan and Kyle tricked him into thinking he was a day-walker?"

"Yeah," Kenny chuckled. "And don't forget about Coonicon. Who ever went to that stuff though?"

"Well, don't get lost in here," Wendy warned him. "I'm not going to spend the whole day babysitting you."

"Please," Kenny scoffed. "Like that would happen. Just remember what I said and try to keep your cool if that shit starts kicking in for real."

Wendy glared over at the blond, who had stopped walking. "I'll have you know that I'm perfectly capable of keeping myself comp-ow!"

Wendy fell backwards, having collided with something mid-sentence. Some _one_ , actually. She looked up from the ground to find a man wearing a red vest looking down at her. In his hands he held a sign that read "End of the Line". Kenny reached down and helped Wendy to her feet.

"You folks here for the convention?" the sign-bearer asked.

"Uh, yeah," Kenny answered. "Is this the line?"

The man nodded towards the sign he was holding. "This is the end of the line." Kenny and Wendy craned their necks to look around the red-vested sign-bearer to find a line that stretched and twisted around the Hilton for as far as their eyes could see.

"Oh you've got to be kidding me!" Wendy exclaimed before turning to Kenny. "You didn't say we'd have to wait in line for this thing! At this rate we'll be lucky if we can get in before-"

Kenny elbowed her in the ribs. "Calm down!" he glared at her, mouthing a silent "Rookie" as her eyes narrowed sourly and she rubbed her side. He turned back to the sign-bearer. "Is this the line to get in, or the line to pick up your passes?"

"The second one," the man answered, obviously for the umpteenth time that morning. Kenny sighed in relief.

"See?" he said to Wendy. "We'll be fine. Lucky for us, Butters picked up his passes yesterday. Shame that he waited in a line like this for nothing, though. Poor kid."

With that, Kenny and Wendy resumed their walk towards the Hilton. Before they'd made it too far, Wendy turned around to call back to the sign-bearer. "Thanks for the information!" she shouted.

"The man waved his sign in response before calling back: "Enjoy the fifth annual South Park Anime Convention!"

* * *

Wendy adjusted the pass on the lanyard around her neck as Kenny finally finished checking his bag through security. "Remind me again: just  _why_ , exactly, did you have passes to South Park's annual anime convention?" she asked as he approached.

"I told you, Butters gave them to me. He's big into shit like those Totoro movies and that cartoon about the hamsters so he thought this would be the place to meet other nerds or something. But yesterday he came home crying about giant boobs and people without any skin before shoving his and Dougie's passes into my hands and running into his room. I guess he didn't know what he was getting into."

Wendy looked around the Hilton's convention hall, overpacked with scantily clad women and men carrying giant swords. "Anime fans are weird," she concluded. "I mean, I watched a little Sailor Moon when I was a kid but how do you go from that to putting on a big fur suit?"

"You got me," Kenny replied. "I gravitated towards other hobbies. Speaking of which, what do you want to do while we wait for this stuff to kick in? I'd say we've got about another half-hour."

Wendy opened a brochure detailing the events taking place over the course of the convention. "Something that doesn't involve interacting with these weirdos too much. It says they're showing episodes of a bunch of different shows upstairs; sitting in the dark could be okay."

"Sounds like a plan," Kenny nodded.

"I have to use the bathroom first, though. Wanna meet me up there?" she asked as she headed towards the ladies room.

"Sounds like a good way for us to lose each other," Kenny called after her. "Meet me right back here. And don't piss out all that lemonade!"

* * *

After waiting in a five minute line for the restroom, Wendy finally entered a stall and locked the door behind her; but rather than pulling down her jeans and sitting down, she lifted her leg to rest her foot on the seat of the toilet. Untying her shoe, she lifted her foot a ways out of it and removed a small bag of pot that had been resting underneath her heel. Kenny may have intended to simply use this outing to field test their new products, but Wendy had other ideas. The blond had told her that selling in such an environment would be too risky, but she didn't intend to miss out on a day of sales. Now she just had to figure out a way to dodge the boy for a good twenty minutes and she'd be set. Retying her shoe, she pocketed the dope and flushed the toilet out of habit. She left the stall to run her hands under some water and headed for the bathroom's exit.

Wendy emerged from the restroom to find Kenny absentmindedly looking around the convention hall. He turned to notice her shortly before she closed the remaining distance between them. "Shall we?" he asked.

* * *

After making their way upstairs, Kenny and Wendy ducked into a dark auditorium showing the pilot episode of an anime series that neither of them had ever heard of before; something silly about a girl who was training to be some perverted young billionaire's personal maid. They took a seat in the back row, sitting quietly as they waited to feel the effects of the edible drugs they'd consumed in the car. The first episode ended and the two exchanged confused, unimpressed glances in the dark, but remained seated as a second episode began to play.

His interest wandering, Kenny took a moment to ponder how exactly he'd managed to find himself spending a day on drugs at an anime convention with Wendy Testaburger of all people. When she and the rest of their classmates had left for college, she was the last one he'd expected to ever come back to South Park. How could he have ever imagined that they'd have ended up where they were now? He looked down at their hands, resting mere inches apart from each other.

Suddenly, Wendy's leapt up as the girl hurried to cup her hands over her mouth, muffling the hysteric laughter into which she'd erupted. A few members of the audience turned around to glare at them, annoyed looks on their faces. Wendy squinted in the dark and giggled into her palms.

"What's so funny?" Kenny whispered.

"I just," Wendy gasped out between laughs, "I can't stop thinking about what Mr. Mackey would look like wearing one of these maid uniforms! Oh my god!"

Kenny smiled slyly at the girl.

"Something tells me that you and I are going to sell a lot of pink lemonade."


	2. Hoodie Weather

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Wendy battles despair. Kenny goes to work. Ike tries to help. Season 1 Premier.

It felt so fucking shitty not to be leaving with the rest of them.

**Season 1: "Flashlight"**

It was all Wendy could think about as she scrolled past the seemingly endless stream of photos depicting packed cars and unfamiliar dormitories, a gallery of fresh starts and new beginnings that used to be her Facebook feed. She navigated to her own page, a thumb tapping and swiping across her phone's smudged screen and past a year's worth of photos, back to a few modest shots of a small room that had been the only home outside her rotting hometown of South Park that she'd ever known.

She let her phone slide from her hand to land on the bed beside her as her eyes raised to survey the room in which she'd grown up: her pink walls covered in Bikini Kill and Pussy Riot posters, her bookshelf overflowing with the worn textbooks she couldn't make herself return to NYU's student bookstore at the end of the last semester; heavy tomes by Tolstoy and Melville leaning against the young adult novels that would always have a place in her heart. Her laptop sat closed on her desk; above it hung a calendar that served as Wendy's daily reminder that her first day at Middle Park Community College was fast-approaching. Community College. How had it come to this.

Wendy groaned and rose from her bed, swinging her legs around to sit upright, the faintest hint of a wiggle running down her toes as they met the soft carpet underneath her feet. Her room was cozy enough; certainly more comfortable and accommodating than the room she'd had at NYU, at least, with its cold wooden floors, fluorescent lighting and tepid shower. Still, for all the comforts of home, she could never feel too fond of her own room. It was still in South Park, after all.

**Chapter 1: "Hoodie Weather"**

"South Park isn't that bad. I actually kinda like it now. There's something… I dunno, 'zen' about how quiet this place is."

"One day you'll have to tell me how your 'wilderness sabbatical' in Canada resulted in you being 100% cool with everything in the entire universe."

Wendy sat across from Ike Broflovski in a quiet corner of City Wok, absentmindedly poking at her vegetable stir-fry as the younger boy deftly maneuvered some lo-mein onto his chopsticks.

"Hey, it's not always easy being this enlightened," Ike replied. "Honestly it just makes dealing with the problems of mere mortals such as yourself all the more frustrating."

Wendy flicked a piece of broccoli at the Canadian's face before giving him a sardonic smile. As smug as the kid could get, he'd been one of her closest friends since high school, when the two had bonded over similar interests while serving in South Park High's student council. Wendy appreciated Ike's natural intellect; while Kyle Broflovsk had to spend hours studying every night to maintain his position at the top of his class, things just clicked for his adopted younger brother. Ideas, concepts, theories; everything just made sense to Ike. Now he was poised to graduate from high school early; he may have only been sixteen years old, but the first day of his senior year was only a weekend away.

"I just don't feel like I'm supposed to be here," Wendy sighed. "I'm Wendy-fucking-Testaburger; I'm not supposed to be wasting my time in a community college, I'm supposed to be working towards my masters in something and landing on the dean's list of some prestigious school miles away from here. I'm supposed to-"

"Supposed to, supposed to, supposed to," Ike cut her off. "You know, you only feel like you're 'supposed to' do that stuff because your country's fucked up government has drilled it into your head since you were a kid that the only way to be successful is to spend hundreds of thousands of dollars trying to get a bullshit piece of paper that says how smart you are."

"Ugh, spare me," Wendy groaned, shoving her plate away. "Did you invite me out to lunch just to tell me how stupid I am for mourning my dying dreams?"

"No," Ike responded calmly as he began to pick at Wendy's discarded food. "I asked you out to lunch because I can't stand to think about you moping around your house by yourself all day. You got any plans for later?"

"I was kind of planning to do exactly what you just described," Wendy deadpanned.

"Great, so no — which means you'll be free to come to the back-to-school party I'm throwing tonight in celebration of the beginning of my final year trapped within the prison that is the United States' education system."

"What?" Wendy asked, half in disbelief. "No way. I won't even know anybody."

Ike grinned and stood up from his chair. "Yes you will," he told her, nodding in the direction of the restaurant's front desk and kitchen. Wendy turned around in her chair to spot a figure clad in a familiar orange parka standing in front of the register, picking up a brown paper bag filled with small containers of Chinese food.

"Hey McCormick!" Ike called from across the restaurant. Kenny shook off his hood, revealing a messy mop of blond hair as he turned to face the two with a look of pleasant surprise.

"Really," Wendy deadpanned again in Ike's direction as Kenny walked over to their table.

"What?" Ike asked in response. "Kenny's a really nice guy. He even does favors me for me every now and then."

"Strictly platonic favors," Kenny chimed in as he reached the table and set his food down between them. "Unfortunately, Ike's never shown even the slightest desire to take our relationship anywhere interesting."

"Shocking," Wendy groaned as she rested her head in her hand, elbow propped up against the table.

"Wendy Testaburger!" Kenny exclaimed cheerfully as he took a seat next to Ike. "Y'know, I thought that was you until how silly I realized it would be to expect to find you anywhere near this town once everybody'd left for school."

Noticing Wendy's frown, Ike shot Kenny a sideways glance. "Touchy subject, dude."

"What happened?" Kenny asked. "You get expelled or something?"

"Yes, Kenny," Wendy replied sarcastically. "I got expelled."

"Wendy's taking some time off," Ike interjected before turning to his blond friend, "and she's having a little bit of trouble finding things to occupy her time back here in South Park, which is why you will be keeping her company at my party tonight."

Kenny turned to flash an excited grin at Wendy, who immediately shoved her hands out in protest. "No. No way! I told you, I'm not going! I wouldn't have a good time."

"I know you wouldn't," Ike agreed. "That's why I'm charging Kenny with the task of making sure you enjoy yourself. You'll do that for me, right McCormick?"

"I dunno," Kenny laughed. "I get the impression that showing Wendy Testaburger a good time is easier said than done. I'm never one to turn down a challenge, though… especially when a lady is concerned." At this he turned to grin again at Wendy; a big, toothy thing that made the faint freckles on his cheeks bunch up. Wendy stared back, unimpressed.

"I promise he's harmless," Ike said, a hint of consolation in his voice.

Wendy had had enough. "Fine," she sighed in defeat. "I'll go. But if this one tries anything funny," she pointed at Kenny, "I'm bailing."

Still smiling, Kenny clenched his chest in mock injury. "You wound me, Testaburger. But as much as I'd enjoy to hang around for more abuse, I've got to get to work." Picking his bag back up, the boy bounced the hood of his parka back around his head before turning to bid them goodbye. "See you later, Ike! And Wendy… wear something cute tonight, huh?"

Chuckling, the boy turned to leave before the girl could respond. Nudging the door open with his feet, he slipped outside into the cool air of the late August afternoon. Autumn had come early to South Park, which meant winter would arrive even sooner. Seldom a day went by that Kenny didn't feel thankful for the orange parka he'd worn since elementary school, even if it had taken years for him to full grow into its size.

Kenny dropped the bag of Chinese food into the passenger seat of the rusty old red Volkswagen Jetta that he relied on to carry him around South Park, before taking a seat behind the wheel and tossing back his hood to restore his peripheral vision. Starting the car and adjusting the mirror, he caught a glimpse of his reflection, all messy blond hair, blue eyes and freckles. "Wendy Testaburger," he thought to himself. How interesting.

* * *

"You're late."

It was the same nasally scowl that awaited Kenny every time he pulled into Hattie's Gas. He looked sideways out of his car's driver-side window, only to be met with the sight of a yellow-gloved hand, its middle finger turned up and pointing towards the sky.

"Nice to see you too, Craig."

Kenny walked around his car to fetch the Chinese food from the passenger seat as Craig Tucker went about filling the vehicle up with fuel.

"What'd you get me?" he asked the blond.

"Your favorite," Kenny replied, tossing a small white paper box over to the taller boy. "Sweet and sour pork."

"I don't like sweet and sour pork," Craig deadpanned, catching the container.

"There's a surprise," Kenny mocked as the nozzle clicked in his car's gas tank. He dug a wrinkled twenty dollar bill out of his pocket and slid it into Craig's palm, his hand lingering against the other boy's glove. "It's Saturday. You got anything for me?"

Craig sighed before pulling a white envelope out of his back pocket and handing it to Kenny, who tucked it into his parka.

"How much?" the blond asked.

"Craig dropped the gas nozzle back into its cradle. "Four-seventy."

Now it was Kenny's turn to sigh. "That's low, even for you."

"Crawl out of my ass, McCormick," Craig replied in a low tone. "I'll make it up next week. First week of school, somebody's bound to be having a party."

"You're lucky you're so tall, dark and handsome, Tucker," Kenny chimed as he climbed back into his car. "Try as I might, I can never quite seem to stay mad at you." He turned his key in the ignition and started the car towards Hattie's rear employee parking, offering Craig a quick wave out the window without turning his head to say goodbye. A cursory glance in the rearview was all he needed to see Craig Tucker flipping his own personal farewell.

* * *

Kenny pulled his car into a space behind Hattie's and made his way hastily across the parking lot to the small convenience store's rear entrance. He was already late enough and he still needed to clock in. Punching in the back door's security code, he turned the handle and flung open the door, slipping inside as he pulled on his maroon work polo, the store's logo emblazoned above its breast pocket. After a quick stop in the supply room to grab a hand-held walkie talkie to stay in touch with Craig outside, the blond finally clocked in and took his place behind the store's counter.

Settling himself behind the register, Kenny looked around the store. In the year he'd been employed by Hattie's Gas-and-Go Kenny had never once seen the place truly busy. Even now, the store played host to a sole customer browsing the magazine rack as he waited for Craig to finish filling his car up with fuel outside. Today was Saturday though, a day of the week which always brought a customer that Kenny could not afford to miss.

He picked up the walkie talkie and depressed the small button on the side to signal Craig. "Jimbo hasn't been in yet, has he?" he spoke into the radio, looking out the window to see Craig hanging his gas nozzle back up and disappearing into the kiosk that stood alongside the pump.

"No," came a staticky reply.

Kenny let out a slight sigh of relief before the store's customer approached the counter, discretely handing Kenny a pornographic magazine that he'd selected from the back of the magazine rack. Kenny rang up the magazine and slipped it into a thin brown paper bag before handing it back to the man with a wink.

"Great spread this month," he smiled. The customer let out a grunt in reply and handed Kenny a few dollars. After taking his change, the man was gone, leaving Kenny to await the next weary traveler to wander into Hattie's in search of cigarettes, gum or a bathroom. Whenever that would be. But while Kenny may not have appreciated the boredom in the same capacity as Craig Tucker, he could at least tolerate it. After all, he wasn't really under the impression that he'd be in for much excitement back when he first took this job.

Deserting his post behind the counter, Kenny walked over to the magazine rack to browse for a moment himself, eventually selecting the latest issue of the Red Racer comic series, which he'd only started reading out of curiosity after Craig had refused to shut up about it one of the times they'd gotten shit-faced together after work. But before Kenny could begin the comic, the chime of a small bell above the store's entrance brought his attention to the one customer he'd been waiting for.

"How's my favorite honorary nephew doin'!" greeted Jimbo Kern, extending a hand in good spirits.

"You got some other honorary nephews I don't know about?" Kenny joked in reply, slapping Jimbo's palm. "How's the shop this week?"

"You tell me," Jimbo mused, "You  _are_  my most valuable employee, after all."

Kenny removed the envelope Craig had handed him earlier and slid it over the counter. "Eh," he started. "Business was a little slow this week. I have a good feeling about next week, though. I hear an early autumn does miracles for the hunting market."

Jimbo pocketed the envelope. "Here's hoping for you and me both, kid! Which reminds me, I believe you've earned this." Jimbo removed a paycheck with Kenny's name on it from his wallet and handed it to the boy. "Don't spend it all in one place, now."

"I won't, uncle," Kenny chuckled in reply as he took the paycheck from the older man's hand before turning to comb through the cigarette display behind him. "Marlboros?" he asked without turning his head.

"My usual."

* * *

After a few more minutes of small talk, Jimbo was gone, leaving Kenny to relax behind the counter alone. He took another look at his paycheck from Kern's Sporting Goods, eying the sum scrawled underneath his name. Not bad, but next week's return wouldn't be quite as good. Hopefully, Kenny could start things off on the right foot this week at Ike's party tonight. That is, if he didn't let himself get distracted by the fact that he'd be chaperoning one of his old friend's ex-girlfriends, that is. Kenny had almost forgotten about Wendy. He'd almost managed to forget about that peculiar energy he'd felt in the pit of his stomach after Ike first suggested they should keep each other company at the party, too. The blond tapped a finger to his nose in thought.

* * *

Kenny's shift passed slowly. So slowly that he had to resort to making a game out of dusting the shelves. Setting a deliberate pace for himself, Kenny moved in even loops around the store. There were six shelves on each wall, three walls of shelving. If Kenny could finish each shelf in three minutes and thirty seconds, he could finish the entire shop in exactly sixty minutes (accounting for an extra three seconds to move from shelf to shelf, of course). That was a whole hour down. Kenny would have to remember the game for the next time the clock seemed to be moving as slow as it was today.

After reorganizing the magazine rack alphabetically by publisher, Kenny looked out the store's scratched windows to watch Craig filling up the first car they'd received in almost forty minutes. The taller boy looked up from the pump before giving Kenny a subtle shake of his head. There wouldn't be any sale there. The market had only been getting drier. Kenny left the window and returned to the broken office chair behind the register.

After ripping a sheet of lined yellow paper from a legal pad next to the register, Kenny began to scribble memorized numbers in a vertical line to reveal a steady decline over the last three months. Unless something changed, August was going to be Kenny's worst month since the time Mr. Mackey tried to quit. The cowbell on the door startled the blond out of his thoughts. He flipped the paper over before looking up to find that it was just Craig.

"What wrong with  _you_?" his coworker asked, dropping a bag of Cheesy Poofs on the counter in front of him. Craig Tucker possessed the amazing quality of asking questions while somehow still displaying an utter lack of interest.

"Nothing," Kenny exhaled. "I'm fine." He wondered which one of them he was trying to assure.

* * *

By the time that the clock marked his release, Kenny was itching to get out of his Hattie's polo and back into his car. After donning his parka to protect against the evening chill, he pulled his car up next to Hattie's lone fuel pump to find Craig pull his hat down snugly over his ears.

"Hey, I meant what I said earlier," he leaned out the window to tell Craig. "I'm super serial. We gotta get those numbers up."

"I told you I'd take care of it," Craig replied with yet another flip of the bird. "Besides, I don't see  _you_  busting your ass."

"I'll have you know that I'm actually on my way to a party right now," Kenny corrected him. "Gonna get an early start on the weekend."

"Oh yeah?" Craig asked, the faintest hint of curiosity coloring his otherwise droll deadpan. "Whose place? I'm off at ten, maybe I could swing by and help you out."

"Not tonight," Kenny told him with a grin. "Tonight I've got a date."


	3. Townies

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Wendy has a bad night. Kenny tries his best.

It had been five minutes since Wendy had parked her car down the street from the Broflovski residence, but she still sat behind the wheel, the vehicle's dark interior illuminated only by the light of her phone screen. She looked down the street towards Ike's house before shifting her gaze back to the phone in her palm.

She texted Ike's number. "This is like a real party right? Like your mom isn't going to be at this thing, right?"

A few moments later, the screen lit up with the younger boy's reply. "Oh my god."

Wendy's nose crinkled in frustration. "Look," she typed back furiously, "I'm just not interested in spending my evening listening to Sheila go on and on about what a fucking fantastic semester your brother's going to have at Cornell."

"You're not sitting in your car outside are you."

Wendy had just come up with the perfect response to the Canadian's trademark sass when a quick knocking at her window startled her phone out of her hands. After retrieving her phone from the floor of the car, she turned to find a smiling Kenny McCormick's nose pressed against her driver-side window. This was going to be a long night.

**Chapter 3: "Townies"**

"Get your butt off my car," Wendy murmured irately at the blond as she locked her door behind her. Kenny's rear remained firmly planted against the passenger door of Wendy's car; his eyes, however, were running up and down the purple dress she'd chosen to wear to the party.

"Gotta be honest" he chuckled, "When I told you to wear something cute I wasn't actually expecting you to listen. This isn't an NYU party, you know."

Embarrassed, Wendy inspected the boy's own choice of clothes as the two began to walk towards Ike's house: bright blue jeans and (under his parka, of course) a red t-shirt emblazoned with the words "Local Business" in cream-colored letters. Ugh, he probably thought that was clever. On his feet, the boy wore a pair of beat up old Chuck Taylors the same color as his t-shirt. Wendy looked down at her own scuffed Doc Martens and sighed. At least she hadn't worn heels.

"What do you know about college parties anyway?" she asked as they neared the house.

Kenny sighed, opening the door to the house and holding it while Wendy entered before him. "I'm just saying, you might feel a little overdressed at this thing."

Wendy and Kenny entered the house to find the party already in full-swing. The living room was packed with high school students, red solo cups clutched tightly in hand; some swayed to the beat of the pulsing music that filled the house while others were simply trying to hold a conversation over its deafening volume. Wendy was disappointed to notice that all of them were indeed dressed more like Kenny than herself. After surveying the room, she turned back around to find the boy hanging his parka up on one of the coat hooks by the door, like he lived there or something. The night was off to a bad start; they had just gotten to the party and Wendy was already annoyed.

"We don't really have to hang out together all night, do we?" she shouted over the music as they headed for Ike's kitchen, making their way through the crowd of party-goers.

"I mean," Kenny yelled back, "If you find anyone else here you'd rather spend your time with, feel free!"

Wendy shuddered as she squeezed past two high school boys in ratty t-shirts to finally reach the kitchen, where the music was quieter. "I haven't seen a single person I've even recognized," Wendy grumbled. "Who _are_ all these kids?"

"You know Ike," Kenny started as he grabbed two cups from beside the keg on the table and began to pour some drinks for the two of them. "He's friends with everybody." He handed a full cup of beer to Wendy before raising his own for a toast. "To South Park?"

Wendy rolled her eyes and downed her beer.

* * *

Wendy drank a surprising amount of beer without saying a word to Kenny before the two returned to the living room to find that the music had stopped playing, replaced by what sounded like a bass guitar coming from a corner of the room. Standing on her toes, Wendy looked over several heads to spot South Park's resident goth kids staring at the ground and fiddling with instruments. Henrietta plugged her electric keyboard into the nearest electrical socket while Pete tuned his bass and Firkle adjusted the stool behind his drums. Michael simply stood gripping a microphone stand, his head down and his eyes closed as he murmured something indiscernible to himself.

"Ike got _the goth kids_ to play at his party?" Wendy turned to Kenny in disbelief. "I thought they hate everybody."

"I think Ike's friends with Firkle or something," Kenny replied. "They were in the same class for a while, you know?"

Before Wendy could say anything else, the youngest goth began the band's performance with a deafening crash of his kit's cymbals, launching the four-piece into a lurching cover of what Wendy recognized as a Cure song that Stan used to listen to a lot back in high school.

"IT DOESN'T MATTER IF WE ALL DIE," Michael moaned into the microphone as the band created an impenetrable drone behind him. Wendy grit her teeth before turning to Kenny with a sarcastic remark.

"Dying actually doesn't sound too bad, compared to listening to these guys," she began to say before noticing that the blond had disappeared. Her eyes narrowed as she glanced around the room in search of the boy, but he was nowhere to be found. She couldn't believe that _he_ had actually ditched _her_. Hadn't Ike told him to make sure she enjoyed herself? Fantastic job he was doing. Maybe he'd realized that she might actually have a better time if he left her alone to wallow in her own misery, she thought.

The couch was occupied, so Wendy made her way back through the crowd, putting some distance between her and the band to sit down halfway up the staircase. Resting her chin in her hands, she couldn't help but wonder where Kenny had wandered off to, what he was doing. He was probably relieved to be free of her. Asshole. Was he actually a big enough loser to _enjoy_ going to high school parties like this? Wendy didn't see him stop and say hi to anyone, which lead her to question if he even knew anyone here himself. What did Kenny have to gain from going to parties like this? What did she even _know_ about Kenny McCormick? Sure, they'd always been in the same class, but it's not like she saw him if she wasn't hanging out with Stan. In fact, she couldn't recall a single memory of him from school in which Stan wasn't standing between them.

She knew he'd followed a few of her girlfriends around, always in search of some action. She vaguely remembered that he'd taken an interest in the opposite sex a lot sooner than many of the other boys her age. But he was none of the girls' first choice when it came to boyfriends; who was going to date poor Kenny McCormick, who couldn't even pay for a date at Denny's? All that Kenny had going for him back then was a foreign, almost dirty appeal; that's all Wendy knew. Sure, Bebe and Red may have went out with him a few times, but Wendy had never been curious enough to actually take them up on any of their offers to share details, let alone take an interest in Kenny himself… no matter how surprisingly "experienced" they claimed the blond to be.

Wendy shook her head. She had to stop thinking about Kenny McCormick. Looking up, she tried to focus on the family pictures that hung on the wall along the staircase. Almost directly above her eye level hung a picture of Kyle, taken at their high school graduation, his red curls poking out here and there from under his mortarboard. She frowned sourly at the expression of satisfaction upon the boy's face, resisting the temptation to smash the glass that the photo sat behind.

Their last year of high school had held several surprises in store for Wendy, but perhaps the one thing she never could have possibly seen coming was that she'd finally found something upon which she could agree with Eric Cartman: Kyle Broflovski was a piece of shit. Sure, Wendy was smart enough to know that the boy wasn't entirely responsible for her current predicament. All he did was manage to finish high school at the top of their class, one measly place in front of Wendy. Still, that meant that when it came time for all those out-of-state universities to start doling out scholarships, _he_ was the one getting all the attention, while she'd been left with nothing, no help from anyone. Wendy had worked hard in high school, motivated by the belief that if she brought home good grades, good schools would take notice. Turned out that schools outside of Colorado only had so much money to award to the students from a quiet mountain town that few people had even heard of before. That was when Wendy learned just what a small pond her town really was. If you weren't the absolute biggest fish, no one was going to help you get out.

Wendy realized that she probably shouldn't have had so much to drink so fast when she found herself struggling to fight back a few tears. Pulling her legs forward, she rested her head against her knees and tried to tune out the music that was still coming from below. It was bad enough being one of the only college-aged kids at this party, now she had to be the girl crying in the corner? What was she even doing at this thing?

"You're not having a good time."

Wendy lifted her head and blinked back a tear to find Kenny standing at the bottom of the stairs with a soft, apologetic smile on his face and a drink in each hand. The crowd in the living room broke into a round of applause that sounded somewhere between reluctant and relieved as the band stopped playing. Wendy sniffled before realizing what she must look like.

"Where did _you_ disappear to?" she asked, annoyed.

"I just left to go get you another drink," he replied, climbing the stairs to sit next to her. "I'm sorry I didn't say anything. Maybe I shouldn't have just left you alone; I know you've been feeling kinda shitty all night."

"Yeah, well you don't know the half of it," Wendy murmured, taking the drink as he handed it to her. She took a sip before setting it down on the step next to her. "I probably shouldn't drink anymore," she sighed.

"I think you just need someone to keep you company," Kenny offered as he stood back up. "Let's head outside or something, I think these guys are about to do an encore." He gestured down the stairs before holding out a hand to help Wendy up. "I promise I won't ditch you again," he smiled.

* * *

Wendy looked over at Kenny, leaning against the railing of the back porch as he drank from the red cup in his hand. She hadn't said a word since they'd gotten outside and she was starting to feel a little guilty about it.

Perhaps realizing he was being watched, Kenny locked eyes with her. "What can I do to help you have a better time?" he asked with another smile.

God dammit, she thought. That kind of shit wasn't helping her feel any less like a wet blanket. She recollected the few words she'd spat at him over the course of the evening and realized that every last one made her sound like an asshole. This wasn't even Kenny's idea in the first place, but she'd still spent the entire party treating him like an annoying dick when all he'd done was try to be nice to her. She clutched her cup a little tighter.

"I dunno," she sighed. "I'm sorry."

"Sorry for not knowing?"

"Sorry for being a total bitch!" she practically yelled back before turning to look off into the darkness of the Broflovski's yard. Perhaps in search of an escape from the goth rock coming from inside, the party had spilled over into the lawn; drunk high schoolers lay sprawled out on the grass. Wendy noticed how close some of them were to each other and felt alone. She didn't turn her head to face Kenny as he took a spot against the railing beside her.

"I know you told Ike you'd make sure I had a good time," she told him as the two stared off into the night. "I'm sorry I'm making that so hard for you."

"It's okay," he shrugged, taking another sip of beer. "I know you're going through some shit. It's cool."

"It's just so hard to feel… anything. Besides the feeling that I don't belong here."

"At this party?"

"In South Park! Everyone I know is gone! I'm the only one that didn't get out of this stupid town. It feels like I missed my one chance to escape. Now I'm just doomed to rot in this place, surrounded by hicks for the rest of my life."

Kenny stood in silence before offering a reply. "I'm still here too, you know."

"And you're okay with that?" Wendy questioned in disbelief.

"It isn't that bad," the blond answered. "I've got a place to live, a pretty steady job. I'm getting by, and I'm satisfied with it. Then again, I never had the same expectations for myself that you've always had. We can't all be Wendy Testaburger, you know?" Wendy finally turned to face Kenny, only to find that he had turned his gaze back towards the house. "Tell you what," he said, "I gotta run to the bathroom real quick but after that I can drive you home. You probably shouldn't be driving and your car'll be fine here overnight. Sorry Ike and I kinda forced you into coming," he conceded before disappearing back into the house.

Ugh. Shit. If Wendy had felt guilty before, now she felt like an absolute monster. She turned back towards the lawn, debating what to do before realizing that her only course of action was to find Kenny and apologize. Finishing the rest of her drink, she left the red cup on the railing and ventured back into the party.

* * *

"Have you seen a tall blond kid with a red shirt and red sneakers?"

"Nahhhhhh, but yo, I've seen a hot girl in a purple dress who looks like she could use a dance…"

"Oh my god, you're a minor," Wendy groaned in disgust as she pushed past the group of snickering high school boys crowded around the bathroom. She'd finally located the restroom after a good ten minutes worth of trying to navigate the party in her current state of inebriation, but she'd failed to find Kenny. Eventually, she began to consider the possibility that he'd simply left without her. Oh well, she thought as she allowed herself to drop onto the finally-vacant living room couch, it's not like she could blame him. Wendy buried her face in her hands. Maybe she could at least get his number from Ike tomorrow so she could text him and apologize. Feeling drunker than ever, she was just about tempted to leave the party in favor of falling asleep in the back of her car when the younger Broflovski took a seat next to her.

"Um… enjoying the party?" he asked as if he already knew the answer.

"NOOOOO!" Wendy moaned, turning her face to her couch-mate only to find that it was Ike. "Oh my God! Ike! I'm sorry, I'm having the worst time. All I've done all night is drink and treat Kenny like an asshole. Wait! You know Kenny. Have you seen him?"

"Uh, yeah?" the Canadian replied in confusion. "I just passed him upstairs. You might just wanna wait for him down here though, I'm sure he'll be right back."

But Wendy was gone before her friend could finish. After carefully making her way up the stairs, she peered down the hallway, searching for Kenny among the crowd of partygoers that had made their way upstairs. He wasn't anywhere in sight, which meant she'd have to start searching the upstairs rooms. Having seen her fair share of teenage party movies, she approached the closest closed door and opened it carefully, afraid of what (or who) might be behind it. But instead of giving way to the sight of two high schoolers in some state of undress or another, Wendy opened the door to find herself in Kyle's bedroom. After a moment's hesitation, she ducked into the room and shut the door behind her.

Kyle's room was dark, lit only by a number of glow-in-the-dark stars Wendy assumed he had stuck to the ceiling when he was still a young boy. As her eyes adjusted to the darkness, Wendy could see that the room was in pristine condition, having obviously been cleaned before Kyle had left for another semester at Cornell, one of the several schools that had been kind enough to offer the boy a substantial scholarship. Wendy looked around the room, her eyes rolling upon spotting a poster from _Terrance and Phillip: Asses of Fire_ still hanging on the wall. Besides that hung the boy's framed high school diploma, along with what appeared to be a crumpled up setlist from a Say Anything concert that Kyle had attended a few years ago. Wendy practically scoffed in disbelief at the thought of Sheila Broflovski even allowing her son to attend a concert in high school.

Wendy sat down on Kyle's bed. She was probably too drunk to be snooping through the room of her old high school rival, or maybe she was just drunk enough. Whatever, fuck it. Either way, Kyle was thousands of miles away from South Park, living it up at an Ivy League university while she was stuck at a high school party thrown by his little brother, managing only to drink herself sadder. He had won and she had lost, and the worst part was that she hadn't known she'd even been competing until she was already a loser. Wendy winced a tear away for the second time of the evening. God. Dammit.

Wendy opened her eyes only to focus on a framed picture sitting on the night stand beside Kyle's bed. Wendy stared at the photograph. Kyle couldn't have been older than fourteen, but he looked even younger. She could barely recognize Stan, his eyes bright as he stood frozen, locked in whatever excited conversation the photo had captured. Wendy tried and failed to remember a single moment of her and Stan's relationship throughout high school in which he seemed as happy as he did in the photo, simply talking to his best friend. His _super_ best friend. Just another aspect of her life in which she couldn't compete with Kyle.

Wendy wasn't sure why she was surprised to find that Kenny was in the picture too. He stood to Kyle's right, separating him from Eric Cartman, who of course was there as well. Maybe it was because she had never paid the boy too much attention when they were younger, or maybe it was because she was having such a hard time locating the blond at the present time, but Wendy found it difficult to look away from this younger version of Kenny. While Cartman stared out of the frame, his expression informed by some irritation or another, Kenny returned her gaze, a look of enigmatic humor playing about his face. What had he been thinking as he'd stared straight into the camera?

Looking beyond the boys, Wendy saw that they were standing in front of South Park High, before vaguely remembering that the photo had been taken on their first day of high school. That was odd, though; how did she know that? Wendy tried for a moment to see if she even remembered how she herself had spent that day before realizing with a dull shock that it had been she who had taken the very photo that now lay behind the frame in her hands. It made no sound as it slipped from her fingers, landing on the bed below.

Wendy knew that Kyle had distanced himself from the other three boys as their high school careers had gone on, neglecting the relationships he had formed as a child as he'd begun to focus more and more on his schoolwork and getting into college. She wondered if he had made any new friends at Cornell. She was sure that he must have. He must have been with them at that very moment, drinking and laughing and talking about how glad they were to be back at school — while Wendy was in South Park alone, with no friends but Ike. No friends her own age. No friends in the same sad, sinking boat.

Although maybe that wasn't the case. Maybe it didn't have to be. Like it or not, she was stuck in South Park for the foreseeable future. But she wasn't the only one. As much as she hated to resign herself to the fact that she wouldn't be leaving home for a while, she knew refusing to accept that reality like the spiteful loser she'd been acting like all night would only make her more miserable. This was going to be a long, lonely year if she didn't start making some friends. Wendy took one last look at the photograph before lifting herself from Kyle's bed and leaving the room.

* * *

Wendy couldn't comprehend what a hard time she'd had trying to find Kenny. What was going on? It wasn't like the Broflovski house was even that big; Ike said he hadn't left, which meant he had to be around somewhere, right? Finally, she decided that it couldn't hurt to ask someone else if they'd seen him. Not in the mood for any more drunken high school boy bullshit, she decided to find a girl to ask this time. Fortunately for her, a small group of tired-looking teenage girls had congregated by the top of the staircase. Wendy composed herself as best she could and approached them.

"Heyyyy," she started, trying to sound as sober as possible. "None of you have seen a tall blond kid wandering around have you? With like freckles? And red sneakers?"

An eternity seemed to pass before one of the girls answered. Wendy felt embarrassed, her inebriated mind racing as she realized that she probably looked like some poor pathetic drunk girl whose boyfriend had told her to wait for him in the living room as he disappeared upstairs to cheat on her with some other poor pathetic drunk girl. She tried to tell herself how ridiculous she was being. There was no way that a group of high school girls who were probably just as drunk as she was were leaping to that conclusion. Oh my god, what if _their_ boyfriends were off cheating on _them_ somewhere? Why weren't they they least bit concerned? Why was Wendy the only one worried about this? Why was she worried about this at all? Jesus Christ, had her drunken anxiety just created an alternate universe in which Kenny McCormick was her boyfriend?

"Kenny McCormick?" Get it together, girl. One of them said something.

"Yeah, you know him?" Wendy asked, snapping back to reality.

"Uh, yeah," one of the girls had answered. "He comes to these things like all the time. Why are you looking for him?"

"Hey, aren't you Wendy Testaburger?" another girl chimed in. A few of the others exchanged glances.

Wendy was just about to tell these _bitches_ to mind their own business before realizing that that probably wasn't going to help her find Kenny. "Look, I just really need to talk to him," she practically begged. "Have you seen him?"

The girl responded with a confusing look, which seemed to consist of equal parts condescension and sympathy. Finally, she sighed a reply. "Try the bathroom in Ike's parents' room. That's where he usually is."

"Ugh, thank you," Wendy groaned as she turned to make her way back down the hall. Kenny had said he was heading to the bathroom, but Wendy hadn't been aware that Ike's parents had a private one in their room. It wasn't until she was walking into the bedroom that she considered how peculiar it was that Kenny would head all the way up here when there was a bathroom downstairs, but she supposed Kenny was a pretty peculiar boy himself.

As she reached the closed door of what she assumed to be the bathroom, Wendy realized that she wasn't quite sure what she was even going to say to Kenny when he got out. Then she realized how strange it was that he was even still _in_ the bathroom, despite the fact that he'd left to use it at least fifteen minutes ago. _Then_ she remembered that the girl from the hallway had said something about Kenny "usually" being in Ike's parents' bathroom. What did she mean by _that_? Maybe Kenny usually drank too much at these parties and snuck off to whatever private bathroom he could find to throw up or something. Lord knows Wendy had enough experience with _that_ kind of behavior. Still, she was beginning to get a weird feeling about this whole thing.

Finally, she decided to knock on the door. "Uh, hello?" she called hesitantly.

"Yeah, come in," replied a voice from inside. Wendy frowned. The voice hadn't belonged to Kenny. This was weird. Still, she felt determined to get to the bottom of whatever was going on, so she steeled herself for whatever was on the other side of the door and turned the handle, only to be met by a powerful cloud of what she vaguely recognized as pot smoke.

"Close the door, don't let that shit out!" someone ordered from inside. Coughing, Wendy winced and ducked inside, shutting the door behind her.

Great, Wendy thought to herself as she tried to get her bearings, this was all she needed. She looked around the room, failing to recognize any of the boys that had crowded into the luxuriously large master bathroom. All except for one, that is.

"Hey, Wendy," Kenny greeted her from his seat in the Broflovski's empty bathtub, his knees tucked in against his chest. "You found me." Any regret that Wendy had felt regarding her treatment of the boy instantly vanished as she observed the cheerful look on that fucker's stupid face.

"You're… getting… high!?" she growled at him through gritted teeth. "You're supposed to be my ride home!"

"Dude, this chick is with you?" a boy sitting on the toilet asked, eying Wendy up and down before taking a hit from the large blue bong he held in his hands.

"Yo is that Wendy Testaburger?" asked another standing behind her.

Wendy resisted the urge to tell them all to fuck off, choosing instead to focus her rage on the boy in the bathtub. "I've spent the last half fucking hour looking all over this stupid party for you when the whole time you were ditching me to fucking smoke weed! And to think I was actually going to apologize for being such a bitch to you!"

Kenny got up from his seat in the tub and tried his best to calm Wendy down. "You were going to apologize?" he asked. "That's really sweet! Look: how about we just go downstairs and say goodbye to Ike. We'll thank him for inviting us, and then I'll drive you home, okay?"

Wendy stepped away from Kenny as he approached, nearly bumping into one of the boys watching their altercation. "No way!" she yelled back at him. "I'm not letting you drive me anywhere, you're probably stoned out of your mind! Is _this_ what you come to these parties to do?"

"Oh my god," Kenny laughed, "I'm not high. I haven't even smoked," he assured her as he rested his hands on the girl's shoulders in an attempt to usher her out of the bathroom. "Gentlemen, your business is appreciated as always," he spoke to the boys over his shoulder as they walked out into the fresh air of the Broflovski master bedroom.

"Thanks for the shit, Kenny!" one of them called back as the bathroom door closed. Wendy spun around in shock as she realized what was going on.

"You were _selling to them?"_ she whispered in a rage, glaring at the boy as he released her and stepped away. "You were selling drugs to high school kids? Oh my GOD, Kenny!"

"Look," he started, "You need to relax…"

"Is this the _job_ you were talking about? Is this what you _do_ now? Sell marijuana to minors?"

"I sell it to everyone," he scoffed. "Like, _everyone_ in South Park smokes pot."

Wendy shot back a look of disgust. "Excuse me, not _everyone_ in South Park smokes pot."

"Everyone but _you_ , then," he taunted in return.

"Oh my god, you are _such_ a piece of shit. I can't believe I felt sorry for you. You're pathetic."

"God, I _knew_ you wouldn't be cool with this."

"Cool with you being a _drug dealer_? How do you even live with yourself? Didn't your brother die of an overdose?"

Wendy knew that she had finally crossed a line when she saw the mirth that had lit Kenny's eyes throughout the entire evening quickly fade away.

"Fuck you, Wendy," he said, turning to leave the room.

Wendy panicked. Her stomach sank. Was she overreacting? Maybe she was overreacting. That definitely wasn't cool, what she'd just said. Holy shit, had she really said that?

"WAIT!" she cried after the boy, grabbing his hand to stop him from walking away. She let go as soon as he turned back to look at her, hiding it behind her back and clutching her arm sheepishly.

"I-I'm sorry," she stammered. "Not just about what I said, I'm sorry for the whole night. I've been a total bitch and you've just tried to be nice to me and I'm sorry for calling you pathetic and I'm sick of making excuses for how I've been acting so I'm sorry, oh my god, I'm sorry, Kenny."

"Okay," he nodded.

"Look…" she continued, "Can I make it up to you? I know we don't really know each other too well but I'm really not the kind of person I've been acting like tonight. It'd be cool if we could like… be friends? Maybe? Sometimes? You're the only one from school left that I kinda know and I remember you were always cool with Stan, even later on, and like since I guess I'm going to be living back here for a while I thought that it might be okay if we could like… every now and then…" Shit. What was she even trying to say? She just didn't want this guy thinking that she was a total asshole. Now he probably thought she was an idiot.

She'd fucked this up, she was sure of it. She braced herself for what she expected to be a reluctantly courteous reply from the boy, but what Kenny said next surprised her.

"We should go back to my place."

Wendy's eyes widened. He couldn't be serious, right? God, this _was_ Kenny McCormick, though. What was going on? Was this his plan all along? No way, she tried to convince herself. That hadn't been where things were going. Kenny wasn't that smart, was he?

"Look," she laughed nervously, "When I asked you to let me 'make it up to you' I didn't mean like… I'm not… _Kenny_ …"

"Oh my god," he sighed. Wendy was relieved to see that his smile had returned. "I'm actually _not_ trying to sleep with you, Testaburger. That isn't what I was getting at."

Wendy practically laughed with relief. "I'm sorry," she apologized again, "I dunno what I was-"

"I meant we should go back to my place and get high."

 _He couldn't be serious_. He might as well have actually asked her back home for a one night stand. Wendy didn't even know what to say.

"You've never gotten high before, have you?" he asked, as if he already knew.

Of course she hadn't. She was Wendy Testaburger. She didn't smoke pot, she studied. She put together food drives. She volunteered at the South Park homeless shelter on weekends. She got good grades and went to a good school, far away. How had she gone from there to here, standing in a dark bedroom, a boy she barely knew asking her to let him get her high? She wasn't supposed to get high with strange boys, she was supposed to… she was supposed to… "supposed to"…

Wendy looked at Kenny.

"Well?"


	4. Sparks

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Wendy gets high. Kenny gets more than he bargained for.

As Wendy sunk into the passenger seat of Kenny's car, trying to sober up, the blond sat behind the wheel trying to figure out how he'd managed to find his way into this alternative universe where he was driving Wendy Testaburger back to his apartment.

His mind racing, Kenny steered the car towards downtown South Park, his eyes occasionally darting back and forth between the road and the girl sitting in the seat beside him. Wendy stared out the window, not saying a word. She'd barely said anything to him since they'd bid a hasty goodbye to Ike. As they told the Canadian that they'd be leaving together, Wendy was sure to give the impression that Kenny would be driving her back to her own home. Thinking it best not to complicate things, or allow any ideas to form in their friend's head, Kenny corroborated the story, joking that she was welcome to spend the night at his place just so she could turn him down.

"So…" Kenny broke the silence. "You're sure you'll be alright on the couch tonight?" His voice betrayed a persisting disbelief that something like this was still even happening. When he'd asked Wendy to leave the party with him, he hadn't expected a yes. He still wouldn't be surprised if she told him to turn the car around and bring her home, to call the whole thing off. Wendy Testaburger wasn't really the kind of girl who did things like this, was she?

"I'll be fine," Wendy replied without turning her head. That was all. She'd be fine? She'd be fine heading back to his place and sleeping on his couch? After doing drugs with him, no less. Who was this girl and what had she done with the Wendy that had dated one of his best childhood friends? Whoa, maybe it was better not to think about that side of this. But how couldn't he? God, the silence was unbearable. Kenny wondered what must have been going through his passenger's mind. It wasn't long before he found that he could take no more, his hand lashing out to hit his car radio's power button and break the silence.

"SHE PUT NINE HUNDRED DOLLARS ON THE FIFTH HORSE IN THE SIXTH RACE," Craig Finn roared as the radio flashed to life. "I THINK ITS NAME WAS CHIPS AHOY." Kenny frantically spun the volume control knob to the left, the music louder than he had either anticipated or intended. Having made the adjustment, the boy looked from the radio to Wendy, wondering if the music had managed to stir any kind of reaction from his passenger. It hadn't. The girl's gaze remained fixed out the window, her body angled away from his. The song ended as Kenny pulled to a stop in front of a red light, but rather than the opening chords of "Hot Soft Light" erupting from the car's speakers, a small grinding noise told Kenny that his car's shitty compact disc player was attempting to make yet another meal of one of his CDs. Fucking great, of course this had to happen now. Swearing, the boy ejected the disc and flipped on the car's AC, holding the back of the disc up to the cool air for a few moments before slipping it back into the player. But it was no use, the car's CD player had long since decided that one performance would be enough; no encores. The light overhead turned green and Kenny gave up, tossing the scratched CD over his shoulder and resigning himself to the task of scanning the airwaves for something to fill the car's silence as it drove on into the night.

Kenny kept the car straight with one hand as his other flipped through the channels on the radio. He navigated towards Middle Park Community College's school radio station, but moved on after finding that that they were currently broadcasting some boring late night chat show consisting of two students discussing campus events. Another tap of his finger brought him to the local alternative station, caught in the middle of some repugnant butt rock. Another summoned commercials. Classic rock. A poorly-recorded orchestra blanketed by static. Sports highlights. No, no, no; how do you soundtrack driving an old friend's ex back to your place to get stoned?

"Hey… go back a few stations." Wendy's voice had practically startled him out of his skin. After a moment's comprehension, Kenny flipped back to the classic rock station he'd skipped over, to be met by the second verse of Bruce Springsteen's "Thunder Road". He turned to face Wendy once again, only to find the girl now staring thoughtfully at the radio. The two sat listening to the song for a few moments before Wendy opened her mouth to speak again.

"I listened to a tonnnn of Bruce Springsteen in high school," Wendy murmured, almost as if to herself. Kenny… wouldn't have suspected that. The boy spared another glance over at his passenger but turned back to watch the road as he continued to listen. Wendy spoke slowly and quietly. "I know that might be surprising 'cause Springsteen is totally like… I dunno, blue-collar working-class dude music but like, it really resonated with me, you know? I mean as a teenager, feeling trapped in a small town… with hopes and dreams about just getting out. Sometimes I would just sit in my room listening to "Born to Run" for hours, imagining that I were the Wendy in that song, that Bruce was singing those promises of escape just to me. I suppose you probably think that's lame, but it always made me feel hopeful."

Kenny could have told her that he didn't think that it sounded lame at all, but the way she said it implied that she didn't care what he thought one way or another, so instead he just sat in silence. He felt like that was a better idea, all things considered.

**Chapter 4: "Sparks"**

The remainder of the drive home hadn't been much different, but the silence shared between the two had at least become slightly more comfortable following the conclusion of "Thunder Road". It wasn't until Kenny was leading Wendy up the flight of stairs that led to his apartment that the boy realized that the silent ride would've probably been a good opportunity to brief Wendy on his living conditions. Kenny lived on the top floor of a tall brick apartment building located in the middle of downtown South Park, a humble looking structure a few blocks from Tweek Bros. Coffee, surrounded by what passed for the small mountain town's urban sprawl. The elevator had been broken since before Kenny had moved in, leaving him to navigate the five flights of the dimly-lit creaky stairwell every time he left and returned home. But living on the top floor was not without its perks; following a few idle chats with the building's super, Kenny had quickly learned the security code to bypass the locked door to the roof, a seldom-visited place that he'd found made for a pretty ideal smoking spot.

Of course, none of this really had anything to do with what Kenny had realized he should probably tell Wendy. Unfortunately, he was finding it difficult to bring the matter up this late in the game. He considered the time. It had gotten pretty late; after midnight now. Maybe it wouldn't even matter. Ugh, but things could get awkward reeaaalll fast if he didn't say anything ahead of time. Right? He should probably just tell her.

Kenny waited until he'd inserted the key into his apartment's door before finally biting the bullet and turning to Wendy. "Uh, by the way, he started, "My, uh, roommate might be here."

"You have a roommate?" Wendy answered after a moment's hesitation.

"Yeah. He's probably asleep, but I figured I might as well tell you just in case he's still up and uh… around."

"Well what's the big deal?" Wendy shrugged. "Is he not cool with you having visitors or something?"

"No he's like… really cool about pretty much everything. You uh… know him, actually."

"What?"

"From school. Like, high school. And before that I guess. Not like, NYU. That wouldn't make sense." Oh man, things had gotten awkward even more quickly than he'd expected. Wendy was just staring at him now, a puzzled look on her face as if she were trying to figure out who he could possibly be talking about.

Then came the moment of realization. "Kenny…" she started, before pushing past him to open the door to the apartment.

"Oh, hey, wait," Kenny started, bumping into Wendy as she stood frozen in the doorway. He craned his neck to look past her, into the living room to see if he was there.

Sure enough, there he was: sitting on the couch playing a video game, a glass of chocolate milk clasped tightly between his knees. His head turned to face the doorway as he heard the two enter, his face lighting up with the same dopey smile that greeted Kenny every time he returned home.

"O-oh hey Kenny!" he called from the couch, "Who'd ya bring home with ya!"

Wendy side-eyed Kenny. "You live with Butters?"

Kenny side-eyed back. "Yeeeaahh…"

The apartment door swung shut behind their backs and Butters was upon them, hovering just on the very border of what could respectably be called personal space, dogging their every step as Kenny led Wendy towards his room. Kenny doubted that Butters had seen the girl since graduation but unfortunately for Wendy, his roommate chose to forego the courtesy of a reintroduction, immediately swooping in and swarming them with all of the questions and comments and exclamations that always seemed to be buzzing around under that bushy blond hair of his.

"Well, well how's it been goin' Wendy?" he started in his airy stutter. "I thought everybody already left to go back to school; has NYU's semester not started yet? Are you takin' some time off or something? I hope everything's okay! Did NYU turn out to be a cruddy school? O-Oh I'd understand if you didn't wanna go back to school after a year, too! The whole thing seems so scary! I tell that to Kenny all the time, I don't think I could ever do it! Hey, I didn't know you two were friends, anyways! Where'd you two run into each other Wendy?"

As they reached Kenny's room, Kenny gave Wendy a glance before ducking inside, leaving her to try to begin answering the bluster of questions his roommate had blown her way. Their voices dimmed as he shut the door behind himself, tossing his parka onto the queen-sized mattress that lay on the floor on the far side of the room; navigating the space's familiar darkness, he approached the bureau in the room's opposite corner before kneeling and reaching for the bottom drawer. He opened it to withdraw the item he'd come for, a light metal lunchbox, filled with his and Wendy's entertainment for the evening. Taking the lunchbox by the handle and shutting the drawer, he returned to his feet and turned to go, before a dull vibration in his pocket made him turn and dig his phone out of his pocket. Its screen illuminated the room as it showed a text message from a blocked number.

"I'm ready to talk. Are you alone."

Kenny groaned. Of course it would be now, there was no way tonight was actually just going to happen. Ugh and now there'd be explaining to do; things had changed. He couldn't handle this tonight.

"No," he typed in reply. "Call me tomorrow." He hit send. Kenny didn't have to wait for a response

"I'm calling you in an hour," it read. "Be alone."

Kenny almost swore aloud as he shoved his phone back into his pocket. "So fucking immature," he fumed to himself, before remembering that he'd left Wendy alone with Butters and leaving the room in a hurry.

Kenny was impressed to find that Wendy had somehow managed to put a room full of space between herself and his roommate. She sat awkwardly on the living room couch as Butters leaned on the kitchen counter, stirring his glass of chocolate milk and babbling. Kenny didn't bother tuning into what Butters had been boring Wendy with, shooting the girl on the couch a look that said "we're leaving" before telling his roommate the same. Butters had just manage to sputter out a reply as the apartment door shut behind him.

"Come on," Kenny said to Wendy over his shoulder as he began to climb the final flight of stairs in the building.

Wendy remained in front of the door until Kenny stopped halfway up the stairs to turn and face her. He could see that she was kind of smirking. Well, she looked kind of confused too; but more amused than anything.

"So we just aren't going to talk about that?" She asked, looking up at him. "Like, at all?"

Kenny's hand rose to his face, rubbing his eyes as he winced and clenched them together. "That is almost certainly a conversation that we are _not_ going to have until I've gotten you comfortably stoned."

* * *

When Kenny wanted to get "comfortably stoned" he'd go up to the roof. When he'd first moved in, the place had seemed like a pretty obviously convenient smoking spot; it would not be too many smokey cool evenings, however, before he would recognize it for what it truly was: the kind of drug sanctuary that only comes along once in a stoner's life, if he's lucky. Secluded yet exposed, not only did it present Kenny with a front row view of every sunrise and sunset to grace the small mountain town, but at night he could see every star in the sky; even the building's view of South Park was a humbling yet comforting sight.

As special as it was to him, Kenny could tell that Wendy was less than impressed; she stood withdrawn beside him, arms crossed, glancing around the rooftop. The two walked to the far end of the roof before sitting down against the wall of bricks that protruded from the top of the building, acting as a railing. In the corner opposite, next to the door that lead back inside, stood a large pigeon cage that one of the building's original tenants had used to keep his pets. It fell into disuse after the man's death, but had since become a makeshift home for the local area's birds. Kenny could hear their sleepy coos as he opened the lunchbox in his lap and removed a small mason jar, a quarter of the way full of marijuana.

"Uh," he heard Wendy start before turning to find her gesturing towards the nearest corner of the building. "Aren't those things kinda creepy?"

What Wendy was referring to, Kenny knew, were the Christmas lawn ornaments. The property of another old tenant, they'd been relocated to the roof many years ago, after being found in the woman's closet and deemed inappropriate to dispose of alongside all of the tenant's other crap. They were fairly large, the five plastic figurines. When assembled correctly, they depicted the Virgin Mary and her husband Joseph praying to their newborn son Jesus Christ, as well as an angel and a small, dog-sized reindeer to stand alongside them. Kenny could kind of see where Wendy was coming from, but they'd quickly become his very favorite part of his sanctuary.

"No way!" Kenny practically gasped in reply, "These things rule, check this out." Sitting the lunchbox down beside him he crawled over to the corner, running his hands over the electric cords that protruded from behind the lawn ornaments until he found their plugs, which he stuck into a small external outlet that protruded from a metal casing on the side of the roof's wall. The lawn ornaments flickered to life, bathing the roof in a warm, yellow and orange glow. Kenny sat up and grinned at Wendy from among the ornaments. Wendy looked like she didn't know what to say.

"Hey," he nodded at the girl, "Bring that stuff over here." Wendy turned to look towards the lunchbox and the jar of pot, before picking them up and moving to sit across from Kenny, who still reclined among the makeshift nativity. Kenny watched Wendy awkwardly handle the jar of pot as she took her seat opposite him, on the other side of the baby Jesus. The glowing infant lay between them as Joseph, Mary and the angel all knelt around Kenny, hands clasped in prayer. The reindeer was there too, facing Wendy with the rest of them. Taking his things from the girl, Kenny unscrewed the mason jar and began to pack a few small buds of pot into the little glass pipe that he'd also removed from the lunchbox.

The baby Jesus may have looked like a warm fire burning between them, but it did nothing to dispel the chill of the early autumn night air. Wend shivered a little as she wrapped her arms around herself. "Isn't it a little too cold to be up here?" she asked the boy.

Kenny looked up from his pipe to shoot the girl a smirk. "Chilly?" he asked. "Want me to run back down to my room and grab my high school varsity jacket for you or something? Bet you'd look pretty cute in it."

Wendy frowned, irritated. "Like you would even have a varsity jacket."

Kenny didn't answer; he was too busy inspecting the bowl he'd packed and deciding just how high he wanted to get Wendy. He briefly considered leaving the pipe only half-full. This was her first time smoking pot, after all. But what the hell, right? When was he ever going to get the chance to get Wendy Testaburger stoned again? Having made up his mind, he made sure to pack a few extra buds tightly into the bowl at the end of the pipe before handing it to Wendy.

"First hit's all yours," he told her, before producing an orange lighter from his pocket.

Wendy shifted the pipe around in her palm awkwardly. "Uh," she started, almost embarrassed, "I've never done this before… so…"

Kenny couldn't help but smile. "You don't even know how?" he chuckled. "Adorable. Here." Kenny took Wendy's hands and positioned them around the pipe. "You just hold it like this," he told her, moving her fingers around the bowl. Her skin was soft. "Use your thumb to cover up that little hole on the side while you inhale. After you think you've got enough, uncover it and finish inhaling to clear the pipe. You ready?"

Wendy gave a determined look down at the pipe and then back up at Kenny before giving the boy a resolute nod. "Like this," the boy spoke as he raised the pipe in her hand to her lips. "You just suck on the end, like a straw, and be ready for the smoke after I light it. Hold it in for as long as you can, then breathe out."

"You better not laugh at me if I cough or anything," Wendy warned him as he flicked his lighter on.

"Oh don't worry," Kenny grinned. "I want you to cough."

With that, Kenny put his flame to the tip of the pipe and hit Wendy for the first time, the small green plant burning and blackening and filling Wendy's lungs with smoke. Kenny watched the girl's face as her eyes closed and she inhaled, the spark of his lighter adding to the glow of the ornaments to light up her features. "Hold it in," he practically whispered as she removed the pipe from her lips. Her eyes fluttered opened briefly upon hearing his words before quickly closing again. Kenny could see that they were watering slightly. The corner of his lips twitched upwards as he watched the girl hold in the smoke.

"Now let it out," he told her, and she did. Eyes still closed, Wendy opened her lips and blew a slow, steady stream of smoke in Kenny's face. He lifted his eyebrows. God damn, the girl was a natural. Kenny wasn't sure whether to be impressed or disappointed. Maybe Wendy Testaburger really _was_ the best at everything she did.

Wendy finally opened her eyes, looking from Kenny down to the pipe that still rest in her hand. Her gaze followed the wisps of smoke that rose into the air before her eyes locked with Kenny's. Licking her lips, she handed the pipe back to him.

"It tastes funny," she said as Kenny lit himself a hit. His lips tingled momentarily when they recognized what must have been traces of Wendy's lip balm left on the tip of the pipe. He inhaled and held his breath before tilting his head back and blowing a lungful of smoke into the night sky.

"What's it taste like?" he tested her. Smoking always made his voice a little raspy.

"I dunno," Wendy replied as he passed the pipe back to her. She took the lighter from him too, so that she could light her own bowl this time. Her movements were still a little awkward, but Kenny could detect no hesitation as he watched the girl take her second hit of the night. Bigger than the first one, too.

Wendy exhaled again. "It tastes like burnt popcorn," she realized as she passed the pipe back to the boy.

"Perceptive," Kenny snickered as he lit the bowl. "It's called 'Jiffy Pop'".

Wendy took another hit. "You name your weed?" she asked in a voice that could make Craig Tucker sound friendly.

Kenny took a hit. "What, no!" he spat back defensively. "I mean _I_ don't name it. Different strands have different names."

Wendy took a hit. "Well who names them?"

Kenny took a hit. "I dunno, fucking Butters," he chuckled through the smoke.

Wendy laughed too.

Then she took another hit.

Kenny watched the girl sitting across from him blow smoke through her nose and stare down at the pipe in her fingers. The pipe looked bigger in her small hands than it felt in his, the warm light from the Christmas ornaments illuminating its swirly blue and orange glass. While Wendy's eyes remained fixed to the pipe, Kenny studied the girl's face. Though her expression betrayed no emotion, he could tell that she was lost in thought. What could she be thinking about? He supposed any number of things. Kenny was thinking about high school and Bruce Springsteen and "Born to Run". _Wendy, let me in, I wanna be your friend; I wanna guard your dreams and visions_.

Wendy finally felt Kenny's eyes on her and looked up, startled from whatever space she'd gone to. "How are you feeling?" Kenny asked her as she hurried to hand him back the pipe, embarrassed by her momentary lapse in presence.

"I dunno," she answered as Kenny took a hit. "Not too different. Maybe a little… lighter?"

Kenny nodded as he handed the pipe to her one last time. "You'll start feeling it in a bit. Take one for the road and we'll head back inside, wait for it to kick in properly. Make it count."

Wendy put the pipe back to her lips and lit it, holding the flame to the pot for a second too long. She choked as she pulled back from the pipe, barely managing to hold the hit in at all before erupting into a coughing fit, eyes watering as smoke poured from her mouth and nostrils.

"'Atta girl," Kenny consoled as he crawled over to take the pipe from her hand and pat her on the back as she coughed. "I think that's enough for one night, let's get you back inside." Wendy rose to her feet as Kenny packed his lunchbox back up. He was pleased to find the pipe empty, save for ash.

* * *

Kenny noted that his living room was now vacant as he crossed the apartment to return the lunchbox to its place at the bottom of his dresser. After checking his phone to make sure he hadn't missed any more unwanted texts, he returned to the living room to find Wendy sitting on the couch, untying her Doc Martens.

"So when should I start feeling it?" she asked, looking up at him.

"In a bit," he assured the girl as he sat down next to her and kicked off his Chucks. "It might kinda creep up on you rather than hit you all at once, but you should start noticing it pretty soon."

"Well what do we do until then?"

Kenny rested his elbow on the back of the couch as he turned to face her. "I always like to keep my hands busy," he purred, an eyebrow cocked under his messy mop of blond hair. Wendy's high may have been dragging its feet, but Kenny's had showed up right on time.

Wendy shifted uncomfortably in her seat. "Kenny…" she started.

"Oh will you relax," he chuckled at her expense. He scooped up one of the Nintendo 64 controllers from the floor and tossed it in her lap before picking up the second one for himself. "Butters always leaves his Mario Kart games on for me when he knows I'm going up to the roof." Sure enough, he turned on the television to find the sound lowered and the game already displaying a two-player character selection screen. Butters may not be all there, but the kid had his moments. Kenny caught himself wondering what his roommate might have thought Wendy's presence in their apartment must have meant before shaking the question from his head and focusing on the game. He chose Yoshi. Wendy chose Toad. Kenny thought that was interesting.

Wendy shifted the controller around in her hand a bit as Kenny scrolled through the game's difficulty settings. 50 CC. 100 CC. 150. "How fast are you feeling?" he asked her.

"I dunno," she responded honestly. "I haven't really played video games since high school. Since I went out with Stan, I guess."

Kenny tried not to think about what his friend might be doing while his ex-girlfriend sat next to him on the couch waiting for the first high of her life. Instead, he settled on 100 CC and pressed A. After Kenny chose a circuit, the screen went dark, before returning with a swooping ariel shot of a pixel-y racetrack and a blast of fanfare, made quiet by the television's dimmed volume.

"I gotta warn you," Kenny murmured to her, rapidly tapping his acceleration button as the game counted down to the beginning of the race. "I'm pretty good at this thing." Wendy didn't answer; she was too busy tapping her accelerator just as quickly, her bottom lip between her teeth.

Yoshi and Toad rocketed past the starting line as soon as the light hovering in front of them turned green, leaving their computer-controlled opponents behind. Neither Kenny nor Wendy said a word throughout the entire duration of the race; they were too busy battling it out for first place. They drove neck and neck, trading first for second whenever one of them happened to get their hands on a red turtle shell. For a second it looked like Wendy was going to win, but a last minute mushroom provided Kenny with the speed boost he needed to take first place.

To Kenny's amusement, Wendy let out a frustrated groan as Toad followed Yoshi across the finish line. "Well, well, well," he gloated as the game tallied their scores. "Looks like Wendy Testaburger _isn't_ the best at everything she does."

"Ohhhhhh shut up," she told him, eyes narrowing. "You got lucky."

"You aren't a sore loser, are you Wendy?" Kenny teased.

"Dunno, I've never lost; and we've still got three races in this circuit."

"Just don't get too upset when I beat you in those, too," the boy cooed at her. "I'd hate for you to waste your first high being sore with me."

"That's not something you have to worry about," Wendy assured him. The second race began much like the first, but this time it was Wendy who ended up taking first at the last moment, a skillfully shot green turtle shell knocking Yoshi out of Toad's way.

"Ha!" she exclaimed. "I tooooold you!"

"I went easy on you that time; like I said, I don't want you mad at me."

"Oh bullshit, McCormick. You were sweating at the end of that one."

"Whatever, you're not even winning! We're tied now."

But they wouldn't be for long. Wendy took both the third and fourth races of the circuit, winning the gold cup at the end of the final race.

"Well loooooook at that," she said with a smug tone of satisfaction. "Looks like I'm the best at everything even when I'm high."

Kenny was just about to snipe back at her before he realized what she'd said. "You're stoned!?" he asked excitedly.

"I'm fucking blazed," she declared, staring off into space.

"Hell yeah!" Kenny raised his knuckles for a congratulatory fist bump, only to be surprised that Wendy actually brought in her own fist for a pound. "I got Wendy Testaburger stoned!"

"I got stoned! With Kenny McCormick!" she said in disbelief. "That's crazy! I would have never done this a year ago!"

"My devilish charms take full responsibility," Kenny said proudly.

"Oh shut up!" she said, shoving him against the arm rest on his side of the couch. "You say the lamest fucking things, how are you a real person!?"

Kenny chuckled as he righted himself back up. "Take it easy, you'll wake Butters," he told her. He picked his controller back up. "I'm glad you're high, but I hope you don't think that means I'm going to keep going easy on you."

"Oh fuck off," Wendy practically snorted at him. Sure enough, Kenny saw that she was in no mood to lose. Worse, the marijuana even seemed to hone her Mario Kart skills. She was getting all of the good items, hitting the turns in all the right ways, and winning every race. Yet Kenny didn't seem to mind; not his constant losses, nor the periodic teasing that was making her feel more like a new friend than she'd felt all night. He was having a good time, and so it seemed was she.

But then Kenny felt his phone vibrate again. After Wendy finished leading him through Bowser's castle, he removed it from his pocket to find a text.

"Calling you now," the unblocked number told him. Shit. Kenny tried to gauge his high only to realize that we was probably too stoned for this. Not that it mattered; he'd have to take the call.

"Hey I gotta go to my room for a second okay?" he told Wendy. "I'll be right back, in like literally one second."

"You're not gonna go hide in your room and cry because you're losing, are you?" Wendy teased. "You promised you wouldn't!"

"I promised nothing," Kenny tried to joke as he got up to go to his room. "Now if you'll excuse me for just ooooone moment…"

"Yeah, yeah," Wendy murmured, pulling out her own phone. "Toad and I will be waiting."

* * *

Kenny shut his bedroom door and sat down on the mattress in the corner of the room, reaching over to turn on the small lamp that rested on the tiny nightstand beside his bed and served as his room's sole source of dim light. He pulled out his phone, texting a quick "Okay" back to the blocked number; the phone starting ringing as soon as the text had sent. Kenny accepted the call and raised the phone to his ear.

"What's up? Today's your lucky day," lisped the voice on the other end.

"It's actually 2 AM," Kenny told the caller, his tone passive-aggressive.

"I'm a busy man, McCormick! Too busy to be wasting this much time on you, actually. Are you alone?"

This crap again. "Yes, yes, I'm alone," Kenny told him, rising to his feet. "You gotta cut it out with this shit, dude. We're not kids playing gangsters."

"I have my methods!" the voice on the other end of the line shouted. "Methods that you agreed to treat with respect before we entered into this partnership!"

"Oh my god," Kenny groaned, "What did you call me for?"

The voice regained its composure. "I told you, I called you with good news. I made a connect and got in touch with that guy I told you about. The one with the plants. I just wanted to confirm how many more you said you wanted. It was three, correct?"

"No," Kenny corrected the caller, digging his fingers into his eyes. "Just. Forget it, I don't need anymore right now. If I did I could afford it but I don't so I can't."

"What are you talking about? I busted my ass to get this connect for you, Kenny!"

"And I appreciate that," Kenny told him, his hand gesturing to no one. "But I don't need any more product right now."

"What do you fucking mean you don't need any more product right now?" the voice asked. "Are you getting shit from somebody else?"

"No, no, no," Kenny repeated in frustration. "Things are just super slow right now, it sucks!"

"Sucks for _you_!" the voice clarified. "You better make sure I still get the cut we agreed on, Kenny!"

Kenny was just about to start shouting at his phone when he heard his bedroom door open behind him. He spun around to see Wendy standing in his door frame, as if in a daze.

Oh, hey," Kenny started as she shut the door behind her. "I'll be out in a second, I just have to-"

"I don't want to play Mario Kart anymore," Wendy murmured before he could finish. Having closed the distance between them, she raised her hand to cover his own, before lowering it down to his side.

"Who's that?" asked the voice on the other end. "Are you with someone? You told me you were fucking alone!" Kenny dropped the phone and the phone dropped the call as it landed on the soft carpet beneath their feet.

Wendy's face was so close to his that he could feel her breath on his chin. She looked up at him, and looking back at her half-lidded expression he could tell that she was properly stoned. Probably as stoned as he'd always intended to get her. Probably too stoned for him to allow what was about to happen to happen; if it really was about to happen, that is. It couldn't be, could it? She was Wendy Testaburger.

But then Wendy Testaburger was pressing her lips to his and he wasn't stopping her. Instead, he just closed his eyes as the girl clutched his hands tightly and leaned into the kiss, opening her mouth and letting him slide his tongue against hers. Kenny was no stranger to kissing girls who tasted like pot, but this time was different. Wendy tasted like a high, one from which he wasn't sure he'd ever come down. She drew away for breath and he could do nothing but stand there in her haze, reeling from the hit until she pushed him backwards into bed and climbed on top of him.

Kenny pulled himself together just long enough to sputter out her name. "W-Wendy are you… sure about this? Maybe we… maybe we…"

The girl straddled his waist and sat up straight. She sighed in disappointment, a puff of air escaping her lips to blow a few stray strands of hair out of her face. Kenny could swear he even saw her roll her eyes. "I'm having a rough year, McCormick," she practically whispered, her voice husky and low. She lowered her face to his as she spoke, until their noses were touching. "I really, really just need to blow off some steam." Kenny's hands moved of their own accord until they found the girl's hips. Wendy's had somehow managed to make their way up his shirt without him having noticed.

"There wasn't a single girl in our class who didn't notice you looking at us, you know. I know you got to fuck some of them, but you never wondered about me? All those years of Stan standing between us, you never wished you could be closer?" Her tongue was in his mouth again, her kiss hungrier than before. This was not surrender. Wendy wanted something and she intended to take it.

"We're not kids anymore," she continued the next time their lips parted. "I don't see why we both can't be mature about this."

That made sense to Kenny. Now it was his turn to close the distance between them, lifting his head and torso from the bed and wrapping his arms around her as they kissed. She clawed off his shirt before his hands made quick work of her dress, tugging it over her head to leave her in nothing but a matching pair of bra and panties.

"Pink," he murmured against her lips before she shushed him with a giggly kiss and pushed him back down. Her hands moved behind her back to unclasp her bra.

"I'd ask if you have a condom," she smirked as it fell from her chest. "But you're Kenny McCormick."

Kenny swallowed hard. This girl was going to kill him.

But first she seemed intent on devouring him alive. Wendy leaned back down to capture Kenny in another hungry kiss before trailing her lips down past his chin and jaw to his neck, all while her hands began to work at undoing his belt. Kenny gasped when he felt her nip at the side of his neck, sucking his sensitive flesh into her mouth, her ass starting to grind in his lap. Fucking hell, Wendy Testaburger was giving him a hickey. He wasn't sure whether to laugh or moan when she finally released his skin; his body chose the latter for him when she returned to drag her tongue over the bruise that was no doubt forming on the side of his throat. She gave the spot one last kiss before making her way down his chest and over his stomach, pausing just below his bellybutton as she popped the buttons of his jeans and started to tug them down.

Kenny was fucking lost. His head swimming from the pot, from the girl in his bed, he looked down at Wendy in awe as she hooked her fingers into his boxers. Wendy met his gaze and took her bottom lip between her teeth, an almost mischievous look in her eye as she finally freed his hard cock.

"Not baaaad, McCormick," she whispered, and suddenly they were back on the couch playing Mario Kart. She shot him a playful glance as her fingers wrapped around him, before turning her attention back to his erection. He was practically throbbing in her palm as she began to stroke and work him in her hand, her fingers playing about his swollen head. Kenny watched as she rested her middle finger at the tip of his cock, standing it up straight and eying it up and down like it was something to eat. Yet he was still surprised when she leaned in and pressed her lips to the side of his shaft, his head falling back to hit the pillow as he shivered from her kiss. Kenny closed his eyes, focusing on the sound of Wendy's slow, deliberate kisses and the soft touch of her lips against his hard cock. She kiss kiss kissed her way up and down his length, before at last pressing her lips against the very tip. Kenny finally managed to look down at her.

"You don't have to…"

"I want to." She didn't look back up. She just kept kissing until he slid into her mouth, slipping between her lips and against her tongue. Kenny leaned back and moaned as she gave him head, a little more of his length sliding past her lips and into her mouth every time she bobbed down on his cock. Kenny gasped with every small noise she made around his dick, raising his head to watch her blow him, her eyes closed as her head steadily moved up and down, her tongue dragging along the underside of his shaft. Slowly, Kenny reached out to brush away a few strands of hair that had fallen in the girl's face. As he tucked Wendy's hair behind her ear, her eyes opened, staring deep into his, brown into blue. Wendy allowed him to rest his hand on the back of her head as she continued to suck his cock, but Kenny never felt in control. In this moment, he belonged to Wendy.

Kenny's whole body shook as the girl gazed into his eyes and sunk down onto his cock farther than even before. "W-Wendy," he just managed to choke out before she could do it again. "If you keep… if you keep… Oh my God, you can't…" Jesus Christ, he was babbling like a virgin. What was this girl doing to him?

Wendy popped her mouth off of Kenny's cock and ran her tongue over her swollen pink lips as she caught her breath. "So you _do_ have a condom, right?" she asked, not missing a beat.

"Wallet," was Kenny's only reply as his head fell back to hit the pillow underneath. Wendy rolled over to the edge of Kenny's bed and reached over the side to dip her hands into the discarded pair of jeans on the floor. Kenny shifted his head to take her in; she lay prostrate on his bed, her knees bent, feet in the air, just blocking his view of her pink panties. The boy reached over and clawed at her ass, his fingers grasping at her panties and pulling them down her legs and around her ankles. Kenny's eyebrows arched. It was small, but the girl had a butt. God he was high. What a good night.

Wendy smirked at him over her shoulder as her feet went back into the air, her panties dangling from a few of her toes. In her hands was the condom Kenny had stored in his wallet. "Were you hoping you'd get to use this tonight?" she asked as she tore into its packaging. She sounded genuinely curious.

Kenny propped himself up on his elbows and looked into her eyes. They were still a little red. "If you're asking me if I was expecting this to happen…"

"I'm asking you if you wanted this to happen."

Kenny was silent as the girl grasped his cock, gingerly slipping the condom around the head and rolling it down his shaft. She sat in his lap, straddling him and resting her hands on his chest. Kenny spied a thick strip of raven hair between the girl's legs before his eyes met hers once more.

"I don't think I could've known how much I wanted tonight to happen." He knew it was the truth.

"Me neither." He hoped that was, too.

Wendy sank down onto his cock slowly. The boy watched her close her eyes and bite her lip as she took him inch by inch, her breathing slow and deliberate, his cock enveloped by her wet heat. Kenny didn't need to read the traces of pain in Wendy's focused expression to know how tight she was; he could feel it for himself. Kenny shuddered as he felt the girl open for him, pushing his cock forward ever so slightly in order to join them as one. When she'd finally managed to seat herself on him properly, she sighed and smiled, as if to herself. Kenny's hands went from her hips to her sides, before finally palming and cupping her breasts. What Wendy lacked in size she made up for in shape and perk. Besides, Kenny always told himself that anything more than a handful was wasted; though it was entirely possible that he never quite believed it until now. He felt her up and brushed his thumbs across her hardening nipples, eliciting a small noise from the girl in his lap. Growing bolder, he leaned forward to take her right breast into his mouth, sucking and rolling his tongue over her marble-sized nipple until her satisfied gasps turned to moans, her hands clasping the back of his head and her fingers running through his blond hair, holding him close as he sucked.

Kenny released her breast and looked up at her for a moment, the taste of her skin on his wet lips. He kissed her hard, and the fingers still in his hair kept his face close to hers as she slowly started rocking her body in his lap, back and forth on his cock. She gasped into his mouth and their tongues touched before he sunk his teeth into the bottom lip he'd watched the girl bite herself all night. He'd been desperate for a taste and now he tugged at it playfully before releasing it to kiss her again, slow this time as she rolled her hips to take his cock deeper inside her. Kenny's hands slid down her lithe body, back to her hips, where he gripped her and helped her move, lifting her body up and down to better fuck herself on him.

As Wendy began to bounce in his lap and ride him harder, Kenny started to buck into her, thrusting up to meet her falling hips. They were both panting now, giving each other as much as they got in return and still pushing for more. Kenny could feel sweat drip from his brow as he held the girl in his lap still and started to pump his hips fast, thrusting into her from below as hard as he could. Wendy's eyes opened wide and she gasped as he hit a sweet spot and kept on it. Slowing his thrusts, he removed his right hand from her hip to brush a thumb across that small patch of sexy black hair and find her clit. As he rubbed it in time with his thrusts, Wendy started to fuck him faster, her hands reaching up into the mess her hair had become as her back arched against his left hand, the boy underneath her the only thing holding her up.

Kenny's thrusts may have slowed, but they maintained their intensity; his cock hit the girl hard, and she responded by grinding down circles into his lap and saying his name. "Fuck, Kenny," she moaned like she was finally his. And wasn't she? He had taken her home. He had gotten her high. And now he was going to make her cum.

Kenny wrapped his arms around Wendy as he sat up and leaned forward, their foreheads resting against each other and their eyes locking through their lashes as she feverishly worked herself on his cock. Kenny knew that her orgasm was coming and that his own wasn't far behind. Yet again, Kenny didn't mind Wendy passing the finish line first.

"Cum for me?" he whispered against her lips, and she did. With a final roll of her hips, Wendy gripped Kenny tight and shook in his arms, digging her nails into him and clenching around his cock tight enough to take him right with her. Kenny felt a rush of pleasure burst inside him as he thrust into Wendy as deep as he could, emptying into the condom that served as the one barrier between them. Breathless and spent, their lips met one last time before they collapsed onto the bed together.

Their pants turned to nervous laughs as they lay there, staring into each others' disbelieving eyes, both the reality and the humor of the situation finally having time to set in.

"I can't believe I just slept with Kenny McCormick," Wendy whispered, to Kenny McCormick.

"I can't believe Wendy Testaburger fucks like that." Wendy shoved him. Then she giggled. Then they were both silent.

"Do you wanna…" Kenny started, trying to ask her to spend the night in his bed.

"Yeah," Wendy somehow knew. "You don't mind…?"

"No! No, of course not," Kenny assured her eagerly. "I'll get the light." He reached over to shut the lamp as Wendy got under the covers, only to turn back around to find that she had rolled away from him to face the window. Joining her under the covers, he shifted close to her, before cautiously wrapping an arm around her body and spooning her.

"Is this okay?" he whispered. "Was this okay?"

"Yeah," she replied. "This was nice."

"Yeah," he agreed. He could hear the crickets outside the window.

A few moments passed before Wendy spoke again. "Hey," she murmured, as if in her sleep. "Thanks for tonight."

Kenny smirked into the back of her head. "Anytime."

Wendy didn't say anything. Then she said his name.

"Kenny…" she started. "This isn't gonna happen again."

Now it was Kenny's turn to be silent. He didn't say anything. Instead he just tried to hold her a little tighter without her noticing, until he was sure that she'd fallen asleep. Finally he replied.

"Okay." And it was. Or at least, it would be.

He supposed he had expected as much, anyways. It would be fine. He would be fine. Living in South Park, Kenny had learned to settle for what he could get.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry that this one took a while! Just rest assured that this chapter is much better than it would have been had it been written, say, a month ago. Promise the next one won't take nearly as long, either. Thanks for reading!


	5. Sleepyhead

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kenny springs for breakfast. Wendy can't sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Everyone's really grumpy in this chapter because I wrote it while sitting between two people on a six hour flight to LA.

Kenny awoke to the sound of birds, faint traces of morning light peeking through his window, and Wendy Testaburger's nose just touching the tip of his own. Shiiiiiit. His eyes opened slowly until he was staring at her, his face frozen by shock as she continued to snooze, her body pressed against his, her legs intertwined with his own. Kenny realized that his arm was still around her, that he must have held her all night. His eyelids clamped shut, feigning sleep as he noticed her beginning to stir.

Kenny couldn't see her, but the idea of what her face must have looked like as she realized where she was still had him fighting back a grin. He felt her slowly slide out from under his arm, as if she were being careful not to wake him. He heard her feet touch his floor and slowly make their way towards the small private bathroom attached to his room. His eyes opened back up as he heard the door close behind her. Rolling over, he folded his arms behind his head and stared up at the ceiling.

God damn.

**Chapter 5: "Sleepyhead"**

Wendy gripped the sink for dear life as she stared at her reflection in the mirror. Jesus Christ, how much had she had to drink last night? Her head was throbbing, her stomach was churning, and there were dark circles under her eyes. She ran a hand through her messy hair, pushing it around her head and pulling away the hair clip that had somehow managed to hold all night to conceal the last reckless decision she'd made in New York. Wendy didn't like to think about the emotional state in which NYU's Fall registration day had found her, but staring at the buzzed patch of hair that was only now beginning to grow back into the right side of her scalp, it was hard to feel any other way.

Sitting in her dorm room, she would have given anything to be facing the same anxieties as her friends, fretting and worrying about registration times, prerequisites and packed classes. Instead, she had spent the day anxiously searching for something to talk about the next time she'd see them, something she could bring to a conversation in place of the classes for which she couldn't afford to register. The sickness that had filled her stomach then was not unlike the one that currently had her hunched over the sink.

And so, with the money that comprised nearly the entirety of what remained of her checking account, she'd walked down to the nearest salon for a haircut she'd always admired from afar but had never considered herself the sort of girl to actually have. Wendy felt the tension and disappointment in herself climax and release as the electric razor buzzed away the hair on the right side of her head, staring at her reflection and swearing to take back her life, to spend the approaching summer figuring things out; she promised herself that her return to South Park would be nothing but a minor detour on the road to the life she truly deserved, the future she had spent most of her adolescent life working towards. She ran her fingers back into her hair, pushing it back over the still fuzzy patch around her right ear and trying not to think about how she'd come no closer to figuring out how to get back to the life she wanted. Wendy swallowed hard before turning quickly towards the toilet and kneeling to throw up.

Ugh. She tipped the lid closed and shifted off of her knees, remaining seated on the floor with her back against the bathroom wall. Okay. What had happened? She'd gone to Ike's party. She'd hung out with Kenny. She'd treated him like an asshole. She'd caught him selling weed. He was a drug dealer. He'd asked her to go back to his apartment to smoke pot and she'd done it. They'd gotten high and then they'd... oh. Great. Great, great, great.

Okay, get it together. This wasn't the end of the world. This was nothing. A momentary lapse of reason. It was just like she could remember telling him last night. She'd had a rough year. She needed to blow off some steam. Now that she had, she could go back to being herself. She could get dressed, go home, and be Wendy Testaburger again. The girl blew a strand of hair out of her face. This could've been worse, right? This could've been soooooo much worse. Sure, she'd slept with a drug dealer that used to be best friends with her childhood ex. But it's not like she'd fucked Eric Cartman or anything.

Standing up, she made her way back to the sink and opened up Kenny's medicine cabinet. Finding a bottle of aspirin from inside, she shook out a few pills and tossed them into her mouth, washing them down with some water from the sink. She left the faucet running and reached for Kenny's toothbrush before hesitating for a moment. Fuck it, she decided as she picked it up; after last night, it was a little too late to worry about germs.

* * *

Kenny rolled over and shut his eyes tight as he heard his toilet flush and his bathroom door open. He listened as Wendy walked halfway across the room and paused. He heard what sounded like the girl picking something up from the ground before Wendy finally opened her mouth to speak to him.

"Wake up, sleepyhead." Kenny tried to interpret the tone of her voice, but the girl wasn't exactly given him a lot to go on. How sarcastic was that supposed to sound? Ugh, Wendy Testaburger was definitely not going to be an easy morning after.

Trying to remain confident, Kenny shifted around in bed and opened his eyes. "Wellllllll….." he greeted Wendy, his voice sleepier than he actually felt. "Morning, beautiful."

Wendy stood over him wearing nothing but her bra, her arms crossed over her chest. "Have you seen my panties?"

Instead of looking around the room for the underwear in question, Kenny's eyes immediately shot down to Wendy's hips, to her thighs, to that little strip of raven hair between her legs that somehow managed to look even more mouthwatering in the morning light. "Do I get to keep them if I find them first?" he asked.

Wendy just sighed and began to look around the room, Kenny's eyes glued to her ass as she picked up his orange briefs and threw them on the bed next to him. "Stop looking at my butt," she ordered as she bent over again to pull her panties out from under his jeans. Kenny didn't, at least not until she'd covered it with the pink cotton of her underwear.

Kenny reached under his comforter to slip into his briefs before getting out of bed and stretching. "So!" he said as he cracked his back, "Where do you wanna go for breakfast?"

"Ohhhh no," Wendy said as she picked up her dress from the floor. She turned towards him with a serious look on her face. "Look Kenny, I'm just going to be straight with you: last night was a lot of fun and while I don't regret sleeping with you, I'm not about to let you take me on some cute little breakfast date. You're going to drive me back to Ike's so I can get my car and then I'm going to go home, by myself. Maybe I'll call you sometime, but last night was a one time thing, and I don't just mean the sex. I don't usually do things like that."

"I don't appreciate being referred to as a 'thing', Wendy," Kenny cooed in reply.

"You know what I meant," the girl glared.

"I did, but _you_ apparently misunderstood _me_. I don't want to take you on a date or anything, Wendy; I just thought it'd be cool if we grabbed breakfast. You said it yourself at the party: we might as well be friends, right?" He leaned back against the bedroom wall. "Look, I appreciate the 'morning after' talk but as far as I'm concerned we're on the same page. Believe it or not, you're not my first one night stand, Testaburger."

Wendy's face flushed pink; Kenny could tell that she was readying some kind of witty comeback, only to be interrupted by a loud rumbling from her stomach just as she'd opened her mouth to speak.

"You're starving," Kenny told her as Wendy clutched her stomach. He slipped into the pair of jeans the girl had torn off him the night before.

"I'm _fine_ ," Wendy insisted.

"The food'll help your hangover."

"Ugh I don't even have anything to wear! I'm not going out to a diner with you in the dress I wore to Ike's party last night, the entire place would stare at me."

"Psh, no problem," Kenny told her as he knelt to open the bottom drawer of his dresser. "What are you, like a size 6?" He pulled out one of the pairs of girls' jeans that had somehow managed to make their way into his possession by one way or another, makeshift trophies from abruptly-ended one night stands, clothes that he'd kept precisely for moments like these. He tossed them in Wendy's direction but she stepped back, letting them land at her feet.

"Why… do you… have those?" she asked, her voice tinted by what sounded like confused horror.

"Relax, they've been washed," he replied as he looked through his drawer of t-shirts. "Ah," he exclaimed, picking up a black one and holding it to his nose before throwing it down on top of the jeans. After pulling on a long-sleeve t-shirt himself, he picked up his parka and slipped his phone into his pocket. "Don't take too long getting dressed," he told her as he left through the bedroom door, "I'm famished."

Wendy stared at the door sourly for a few moments after he'd left. Ugh, he thought he was so fucking cool. Wendy's stomach growled again and she put her legs through the jeans he'd given her; they were a little loose but they'd do, if she could manage to not think about where they'd been. Next she picked up the t-shirt, unfolding it to find its front emblazoned with bright red and white letters. D.A.R.E. to Resist Drugs and Alcohol.

"You aren't funny AT ALL!" she shouted into the next room.

* * *

Wendy tossed the shopping bag that now contained her dress into the back of the car as Kenny brought the vehicle to life. She climbed into the passenger seat, slamming the door shut behind herself only to wince at the sound.

"How're ya feeling?" Kenny asked his hungover passenger.

"Like fucking death," Wendy replied. "Oh Jesus, what's _that_?"

"What's what?" Kenny asked absentmindedly as he backed his car out of its space in the apartment complex's small parking lot.

"That thing on your neck!" Wendy replied, her voice wilting with despair.

Kenny rubbed the hickey that had formed on the right side of his neck. "That's all you, girl," the boy winked at her as he accelerated out of the lot and pointed his car towards the nearest diner.

Wendy just groaned and sunk into her seat, clutching her stomach as Kenny's car took a turn. "If you don't take it easy I'm gonna puke all over your car, dude."

"Sorry sorry sorry," he apologized as he eased off the gas. "Man, you really feel that bad? I thought college girls knew how to handle their booze."

Wendy glared at him from the passenger seat. "I just haven't gotten drunk in literally years," she told him. "I'm not used to it. I mean, I drank socially while I was away at college but I stopped drinking to get drunk back in high school."

"Such a good girl," Kenny clicked his tongue condescendingly.

"Ha, yeah," Wendy laughed sarcastically, before turning to face the window. "That was just the way it had to be. After all, one of us had to be sober, and it sure as hell wasn't going to be him."

Kenny grit his teeth and gripped the wheel. Ah. Yikes.

* * *

Kenny approached the parking lot of Denny's, fully prepared for Wendy to make some kind of sarcastic comment upon seeing the restaurant's bright red and yellow sign. What he hadn't been expecting was for the girl to break into a full-blown panic.

"Denny's!?" she practically yelped, eyes widening as the car slowed and entered the parking lot. "You didn't say we were going to Denny's!"

"What's wrong?" he asked as he navigated his car into the closest parking spot and killed the engine. "Is Denny's not a classy enough establishment for a post-one-night-stand breakfast with Wendy Testaburger?"

"No, _asshole_ ," she spat back at him. "My _parents_ are here."

"What?" Kenny craned his neck and looked out the window to search the parking lot. "Where?"

"I don't _know_ ," Wendy replied furiously, turning around in her seat to look around the parking lot for herself. "But they _always_ come to Denny's for breakfast on Sundays, every weekend. It's like, a thing they do!"

"Well it's kinda late in the morning," Kenny tried to reason with her. "Maybe we missed them."

"No they _always_ go kinda late in the morning. My dad hates to get up early; that's why they go to Denny's, because they serve breakfast all day." Wendy clutched the back of her seat. "Oh my god, that's their car. They're here. Oh my god I can't believe this."

"Tons of places serve breakfast all day."

"Not the POINT, Kenny! What I'm saying is that we can't go in there."

"Why not?"

"Why _not!?_ Because I didn't come home last night and I'm wearing your clothes and you have that big fucking thing on your neck and Jesus fucking Christ I may as well be wearing a sign that says I FUCKED KENNY McCORMICK."

"Now that's something I could see on a t-shirt."

Wendy crossed her arms. "This was a bad idea. Take me back to Ike's."

"Oh come on," Kenny pleaded.

"Kenny! No!"

Kenny groaned as he restarted the car and turned around to back out of his space. "Fine," he conceded, "We'll leave. But we're still getting breakfast."

"Do we have to?" Wendy moaned.

"Yesssss!" Kenny hissed back at her. "Don't worry, I have an idea."

* * *

Kenny and Wendy sat in silence as they waited in line to pull into the drive through of Jack in the Box.

"I have to admit," Wendy sighed. "You do know how to show a girl a good time."

"I have never heard anyone complain _this_ much about being treated to a free breakfast," Kenny said in disbelief.

"Oh I'm being treated?" the girl mocked as Kenny's car crawled towards the drive through's intercom. "Lovely. A free breakfast at Jack in the Box! Dating the town drug dealer does have its perks, I suppose!"

"Well at least you're opening up to the idea," he mumbled. "What would you like?"

"Just order me whatever," Wendy sighed, "I've never even been here."

Kenny scanned the menu in search of whatever breakfast item would earn him the least amount of contempt from the girl currently stewing in his car's passenger seat. "You're a vegetarian, right?"

"Yeah," Wendy answered. She sounded slightly surprised. "How did you know that?"

"I think I remember Stan mentioning it a few times back in like, middle school or something. You must've just stopped eating meat. You seem like the type to stick to that kinda thing, I guess."

"Jeez, I can't believe you remember that."

"Well, Cartman had some… memorable things to say on the matter."

"Of course," Wendy's eyes narrowed.

* * *

 

Kenny's car sat parked behind Jack in the Box as its driver unwrapped a breakfast burrito. "See, isn't this nice?" he asked before taking his first bite.

"Yeah, just like _Breakfast at Tiffany's_ ," Wendy replied sarcastically, carefully drizzling syrup over the styrofoam plate of pancakes sitting in her lap. "That thing smells gross," she nodded in the direction of Kenny's food.

"Whatever," Kenny swallowed. "I know that deep down you're totally charmed by all this. Just don't get syrup all over my car."

The two said nothing as they went about eating their breakfasts, before Wendy finally broke the silence.

"So about that thing you didn't want to talk about last night…" she began.

"What?" Kenny asked through a mouthful of egg and sausage. "Oh, Butters? God, do we have to talk about that? We share an apartment, so what?"

"Thaaat's not how he made it sound. Butters told me that you don't pay rent."

That fucking blabbermouth. "So? Neither does he, really."

"Yeah, he mentioned that too. So do you wanna tell me why the Stotches are paying for you and their son to live in an apartment together?"

Quickly, Kenny tried to imagine what Butters may or may not have told the girl before deciding to just come clean. "Well I mean, it's not like they know I live there."

"Really! So you're freeloading in Butters' apartment and not even helping his parents pay for the place."

"Duh, if I paid them rent then they'd know I was there. If Mr. Stotch had any idea that his son was living with another dude he'd probably assume that we were fucking and send Butters back to that creepy heterosexual brainwashing camp where all those kids killed themselves."

"Why are they even paying for _him_ to live there?" Wendy asked.

"I think they just want him out of the house, actually. It's kinda sad but like… I dunno, wouldn't you? Butters totally lacks the constitution for life at college, and the job he's working now doesn't pay well enough for him to get his own place. This way he at least kind of gets to live like an adult and his parents have some peace and quiet. Everybody wins."

"Including you," Wendy said skeptically. "So McCormick, if you're not paying rent, what're you doing with all of your drug money, hm?"

Kenny just shrugged. "Putting it away."

"For what? School?"

Kenny almost laughed. "Nah, I don't really think higher education's my kinda thing."

"Well then what _are_ you saving for?"

"I dunno," he told her. "The future."

"The future," Wendy repeated. "I dunno dude, shouldn't you have some kind of plan or something?"

"I think plans are overrated. I spent enough of my childhood hanging around Eric Cartman to know that plans usually don't work out around South Park."

"I wish you had told me that a few years ago," Wendy conceded glumly.

"Speaking of which," Kenny began, taking a slow sip from the cup of coffee that had been cooling in his car's cup holder. "How about you tell me about what's going on with you?"

Wendy sighed, reaching for her own cup of coffee. "I'd really rather not," she told him. Her tone, however, suggested otherwise. For the first time since last night, Wendy sounded vulnerable, like she was actually ready to talk to Kenny like a friend. He knew this whole breakfast thing was a good idea.

"Oh, come on," Kenny encouraged. "Look, if you can talk to anyone about this, it's me. I'll totally understand if you like, got to college and decided the whole thing was bullshit or something. Whenever I hang out with Ike he never stops talking about shit like that."

"That's the worst part," Wendy spoke into her coffee. "I totally loved it. It was everything I'd hoped it would be. Making new friends, going to classes, joining clubs… not being in South Park…"

"So why didn't you go back?"

Now it was Wendy's turn to shrug. "I couldn't afford it," she admitted. "Kyle got all of the scholarships I was hoping for, and NYU isn't a cheap school. I knew after I got accepted that I wouldn't be able to pay for all four years unless something happened, but I was so set on going that I enrolled anyways. Then my… ugh, my mom got really sick and my parents had to spend what money they'd been able to put away for my tuition on her medical bills, so I only ended up being able to afford one year."

"That sounds really frustrating," Kenny consoled. "Couldn't you have taken out a loan or something? I thought kids do that to pay for college all the time?"

"Have _you_ ever tried to take out a loan?" she asked. "There isn't a bank in the country that would lend money to anyone from a town whose hundreds of thousands of dollars in debts once had to be bailed out by a nine year old boy. Just another way in which I've been screwed by Kyle Broflovski, I guess…"

Kenny wasn't sure what to tell her, but he genuinely felt for the girl. Sure, they hadn't really been friends in high school, but he'd known as well as anyone how busy Wendy had kept herself those four years, acing classes and excelling at extracurriculars all with the hope of trading in South Park for some nice school in a big city. Thinking about everything his family had gone through back then, Kenny realized he'd never really had much time in high school to think about what might come next. He'd just taken life one day at a time. Hell, he still did. He looked at the sad girl sitting in his car next to him, searching for the words that might make Wendy feel better; but whatever they were, he couldn't find them.

"So what are you gonna do now?" he finally asked.

"I dunno," Wendy sighed in defeat. "I'm using what little money I had left after my first year to pay for classes at Middle Park CC. I start tomorrow. I guess I should probably try and find a part time job, too. Know anywhere that's hiring?"

"Not really, South Park isn't exactly in the middle of an economic boon. Butters got a job at Tweek Bros. a few months ago, maybe he could put in a good word for you."

"And what do you do?" Wendy asked. "Besides the obvious, I mean."

"I work in the convenience store over at Hattie's."

"Really? That shitty little full-service station where Craig Tucker started working back in junior year?"

"Craig's still there," Kenny smirked into his coffee. "We're totally bros."

"Of course he's still there. Does he know about your 'side business'? Do you sell pot out of the back room there or something?"

"Not quite," Kenny chuckled. "But yeah of course he knows. He's like my fucking sidekick, we run this town."

"Uh huh," Wendy replied skeptically.

"Seriously, we're not doing bad. We sell to basically everyone in town and we've even got this laundering kinda deal set up with Stan's uncle."

"Aren't you worried about getting caught?"

"By fucking who?" Kenny laughed, "The police? Like Barbrady and his pigs could ever measure up to a criminal mastermind such as myself."

"Yeah, okay, Moriarty."

"It's not like you have to be a genius or anything, you just can't be stupid about it. Hell, you'd probably make a kick ass dealer if you ever decided to stop being such a goody-two-shoes."

"Yeah, that's what I'll do," Wendy laughed, "Just forget about school and become a drug kingpin."

Kenny rested his arm on the back of his seat, leaning his face in closer to Wendy's own. "Just stay out of my territory, Testaburger."

* * *

Kenny pulled up to the curb in front of the Broflovski house, parking behind Wendy's white Toyota Prius. Wendy emerged from the boy's car, yawning as she stretched. Breakfast had made her feel a little better, but she was still feeling the effects of the last night. She reached into the back pocket of the jeans that she was trying to forget didn't originally belong to her and removed her keys, remotely unlocking her car's doors.

She turned to find Kenny reclining against his car. "Well, this has definitely been something," she told the boy. She wasn't sure how else to put it.

"You can say that you had a good time," he replied with a smirk.

"I had an okay time," she smirked right back.

"I'll take it," he conceded. "We should do this again sometime."

"IIIII'm not sure about that. But we'll do something. I'm gonna need something to distract me from the crushing boredom that is South Park, Colorado."

"Just not drugs and casual sex?"

"Just not drugs and casual sex."

"C'est la vie," Kenny sighed. "Different strokes and all that. But you have my number, and I have yours. I'm sure we can think of something more wholesome to get up to sometime."

"Yeah, let me know when you wanna get your ass kicked at Mario Kart again."

"Oh I totally will. Until then… it's been nice hanging out with you, Wendy."

"Yeah," Wendy agreed. "Yeah it's been nice hanging out with you too, Kenny."

And with that, they both turned to go. Wendy opened her car and got inside, starting her engine and plugging her phone into the charger that connected to the vehicle's cigarette lighter. She looked down to check that it was charging when she heard a knock at her window. She looked up, only to find Kenny standing outside her car, holding the bag that contained the dress she'd worn the night before.

"Forget something?" he asked through her window. " _That's_ how that happens."

* * *

It was only about two in the afternoon when Wendy arrived home, but the girl already felt ready for bed. At least her parents weren't home yet, which meant she still had a little time to formulate a story about where she'd spent her night. After climbing the stairs, she retreated to her room, tossing the bag that contained her dress onto her bed and shedding the clothes Kenny had given her, kicking them over to the hamper that sat in the corner. She pulled a pair of her own jeans out of her dresser before opening her closet in search of a fresh shirt, only to find it practically empty. Ugh, right; laundry day. That could wait until after she'd showered, at least. She probably smelled like booze, breakfast and boy.

Speaking of smells… Wendy could swear that there was another faint oder hanging about her room that she could just barely pick up. Sniffing the air, she traced the smell to the plastic bag siting on top of her bed. Removing the clothing from within, she held the dress to her nose. God, that's what it was: her dress smelled like pot. How was that possible, though? She and Kenny had smoked on the roof, so shouldn't the smell have blown off them or something? Wendy was still trying to figure it out as she unfolded the dress, only to find a small ziplock baggie tucked inside, containing the pipe Wendy recognized from last night, Kenny's orange lighter, and a few buds of pot. Holy shit.

Wendy scrambled to pick up the bag, but when she picked it up, she could do nothing but hold it in her hands, unsure of what to do with it. God, what _was_ she going to do with it? She opened the drawer of her desk and removed a plastic pencil case, emptying its contents and replacing it with the ziplock bag. That seemed to hide the smell at least.

Wendy was still trying to figure out what to do with the weed when she heard her phone vibrate on top of the desk. She picked it up to find a text message from a number she'd added to her phone only an hour ago.

"Next time it'll cost you. ;)"

* * *

Wendy tossed her clothes into the laundry machine and started the wash cycle before readjusting the towel wrapped around her wet hair. The machine was loud, but Wendy was just able to hear a voice call from upstairs over its racket.

"Wendy? Are you down there?" Her mom. Okay, play it cool. She totally has no idea you fucked a drug dealer last night.

"Yeah mom, I'll be right up!" Wendy called as she ascended the basement stairs. She emerged from the doorway into the kitchen to find her mother putting some groceries away. "Hey mom," she greeted as she shut the door behind her.

Wendy's mother turned around only for her daughter to see that she'd already removed the prosthetic that had recently taken the place of her left breast. Wendy looked to the kitchen table to find it resting on top. "Oh mom," she sighed, "Don't leave it on the table."

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry," the woman tutted, "I just hate having that thing in. Sure, it means I don't get stared at in public, but here at home I'd just rather be lopsided."

Wendy's only response was silence; her mother had only lost her breast to cancer a few months ago and Wendy was still trying to figure out how to navigate conversations about the subject. Her mother's struggle with cancer had been rough on her whole family; at least back when her grandmother had been diagnosed ten years ago it had been an excuse to beat the shit out of Eric Cartman. The Testaburgers' second bout with the disease had only served to stress her family to the point of emotional exhaustion.

"Where's dad?" Wendy tried to change the subject as she opened the fridge to help her mom put groceries away.

"Oh your father had to run back out," her mother replied. "He had to head to the hardware store. You know, our dryer downstairs is on the fritz, and god forbid your father calls a repair man."

"Ugh what?" Wendy groaned. "I just threw like all my clothes in there!"

"Well I'll hang them up in the backyard and we'll see how they dry," her mother sighed. "I wouldn't count on your father to get it fixed tonight. You would've known about the dryer if you'd come home last night, though, you know. What'd you get up to, sweetie?"

"Uh," Wendy started, "I hung out with Ike and some of his friends last night and we had a little bit to drink so I didn't want to risk going home." That sounded believable enough, right?

"Well that's good," her mother replied. "You know I wouldn't want you driving if you didn't really feel up to it. I'm surprised Sheila lets that boy drink; isn't Ike a few years younger than you? I supposed that boy always has been mature for his age, though. You kids didn't get up to any trouble, did you?"

"Trouble?" Wendy scoffed. "Come on mom, you know me. I'm a good girl."

* * *

Wendy spent the rest of the afternoon and evening preparing for her first day of community college. Printing out syllabi, going over her schedule, packing her backpack… not exactly exhausting tasks, but she still felt tired enough to go to bed fairly early, just after ten o'clock. Unfortunately, her mother had been correct in doubting her father's ability to fix the clothes dryer, which left Wendy without a pair of pajamas to wear to bed. She was fine slipping on one of the few pairs of clean panties she had left, but it was a little too chilly to sleep topless. After facing her empty closet once more, her eyes finally came to the discarded clothes she'd tossed into the corner earlier that afternoon. Sighing, she picked up the black t-shirt and pulled it over her head. She pulled the shirt's collar up to her nose and sniffed. Kenny's apartment. Finally, she set an alarm for the next morning, shut her bedroom lights, and crawled into bed. She may have been wearing somebody else's clothes, but she fell asleep content with the knowledge that at least she'd be spending the night sleeping in her own bed, in her own home. A good night's rest was exactly what she needed. Nothing exciting, nothing out of character; just sleep.

But just as Kenny had told her, few things in South Park go as planned. It was still dark when Wendy's vibrating phone woke her back up. Groggy, she reacher over to her desk and picked it up, only to find that she'd received another text.

"I forgot to wish you a good first day of school tomorrow!"

Son of a bitch. Wendy thought about typing a reply before noticing the time. 3 AM. Ugh, she needed to get back to sleep or else she'd feel like shit on her first shitty day of shitty classes at her shitty new school. Shit. Wendy switched on her phone's "do not disturb" function and set it back down on the desk, before rolling back over in bed and trying to fall back asleep. But much to the tired girl's dismay, it didn't seem to be happening.

After about an hour of tossing and turning, Wendy finally sat up in bed and groaned. She turned to look out her bedroom window. It was a dark night, the moon and stars obscured by clouds, but Wendy could just make out the faintest hint of a light shining from somewhere outside. Crawling out of bed, she walked over to her window to investigate, peering outside. Upon further inspection, it looked like the source of light was coming from the bushes that separated her backyard from her neighbor's, a beam of light flashing and flickering and cutting through the darkness of the night.

Still in a bit of a sleepy stupor, Wendy removed one of the notebooks and pens that she'd packed into her bag for her first day of classes. Cracking the notebook, she began to mark down a series of dots and dashes that corresponded with the flickering light, transcribing its flashes into morse code. Wendy had spent many a recent night lying awake, wishing for a sign, a message from somewhere, anywhere, that could tell her what to do. The idea that an answer to her prayers could arrive in the form of a mysterious light flashing from her backyard's bushes was absurd, she knew; but maybe she was just desperate enough to try.

The flickering light disappeared just as Wendy was approaching the bottom of the notebook's first page. Wendy hadn't practiced morse code since she'd stopped going to girl scout meetings years ago, so she was pretty rusty; too rusty to even keep track of the words she was transcribing as she wrote. After nearly an hour's worth of work, she looked back to see what she'd interpreted from the flashing light.

It had said nothing.

Wendy sighed as she shut the notebook, tossing it over onto her desk. After a moment's pause, she walked over to the desk herself and opened the top drawer, removing the pencil case she'd stored inside. Fuck it. Pot was supposed to make you sleepy, right?

Wendy couldn't really believe what she was doing, but that didn't stop her from opening the ziplock bag and packing some of the pot Kenny had given her into the pipe she'd shared with the boy last night. She walked back to the window and opened it, before picking up the lighter and and raising the pipe to her lips. Leaning her head outside, she lit the pipe and inhaled, holding in the hit for as long as she could before releasing the smoke. How much should she smoke? She tried to remember how many hits she'd taken with Kenny the night before, eventually deciding that three or four would probably be enough. Sure enough, she was already starting to feel a bit warm and toasty by her third hit. Pleased that the high seemed to be setting in more quickly than it had her first time, she stored the pipe back into her pencil case and hid it away in her desk. Maybe now she'd be able to sleep.

Half an hour later, Wendy was still lying awake in bed. The drugs had made her drowsy, but something was still keeping her up. She no longer tossed and turned, but while she felt comfortable beneath the warm blankets of her bed, she was kept awake by what felt like her skin tingling. Extremely aware of her body, she felt sensitive all over. Slowly, she raised her arms and ran her fingers into her hair, past the buzzed patch around her ear and into the inky dark. She could swear she could feel every strand. Her hands moved down, gently passing over her ears and down her neck as she enjoyed the feel of her own skin beneath her fingers. She crossed her arms and traced her collarbones, appreciating their crevices before dragging her hands farther down her body, over the soft cotton of her t-shirt. Kenny's t-shirt.

Wendy's hands moved down across her breasts and over her nipples, which she could feel harden through the fabric. She started to feel herself up through the shirt, gasping for breath after a surprisingly pleasant grope. Biting her lip, she trailed her hands farther down her body, over her belly and down past her waist. Her legs seemed to part on their own as she cupped herself, palming her own cunt through her underwear to feel the arousal that had begun to dampen her panties. Giving in, she slipped a hand inside, fingers finding her clit as she began to rub and play with herself.

Wendy tried to remember the last time she'd gotten herself off, but only ended up thinking about the night before, stoned and on top of Kenny in his bed. It had been her first fuck in a while. There'd been times since Stan, of course; a few boys she'd taken back to her dorm over the course of those last few months of feeling wild in the city. But sleeping with them didn't leave her as satisfied as fucking Kenny had, so he was the one filling her thoughts as she slipped her fingers inside herself to fill her pussy. She curled them to hit all the right spots as she thought about the way he'd felt inside of her, thrusting into her cunt from below. She thought about the way he'd looked underneath her, staring up at her in awe as she'd taken him in. Wendy wasn't sure if anyone had ever looked at her quite like that before in her life.

If the way Kenny looked at her had made her feel powerful, the way the boy himself looked beneath her, after she'd pushed him down and taken her seat in his lap, made her feel like a goddess. She'd enjoyed the way he shook beneath her, how his lean, pale frame had trembled at her touch, the way that he'd shivered as she traced her fingers down his tummy to free his hard, ready cock. Wendy wet her lips as she remembered how hot that cock had felt against her kiss, how Kenny had moaned as it filled her mouth.

Wendy started to move her fingers faster, turning her head to swear into her pillow. Yeah, fucking Kenny had made her feel powerful; that boy felt like the first thing she had managed to take for herself in a long time. But while riding Kenny's cock had made her feel like her old self again, fucking the boy had taken her to an unfamiliar place, as well; an unforeseen point of view from which she could both see and accept the girl she was allowing herself to be at that moment, a sad young woman from a small mountain town, blanketing her grief in the warm body of another. Kenny had been that solace, that space where she was wanted, whether she was the old Wendy, a new Wendy or some other Wendy entirely. Kenny was a triumph in surrender, a consolation prize for giving up; and at that moment, he was enough. There was a comfort in giving herself to him, to joining her body with his and asking him to take care of her, please; that _is_ how she'd felt, she realized as her fingers curled. When he'd taken ahold of her, when he started to fuck her, to _really_ fuck her, she'd felt taken care of. It was that feeling that she thought of as she brought herself right up to the edge, fucking herself with her fingers while she used her other hand to play with her clit. Her head tilted back and her breath hitched as she thought about his whisper. "Cum for me?"

Wendy fell asleep trying not to think about the way he'd smirk if he knew that she just had again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> aaaaaand that about hits my smut quota for at least a chapter or two, I think. Thanks for reading!


	6. Maybe You Can Owe Me

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Wendy goes to school. Kenny gives her a chance. Craig hangs out.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We're back!

Wendy sprinted down the hallway of the Middle Park Community College communications building, backpack slung over her shoulder as she glanced down at her phone. A few frantic taps of her thumb brought her to MPCC's mobile online campus, where she began to desperately search for the room number of her Public Speaking class (for which she was currently running fifteen minutes late, at least). Wendy swore as she took a hard left into the building's stairwell and began to head for the second floor; she'd looked this up last night, hadn't she? Why couldn't she just remember the god damn number? Ugh, shit; was marijuana a memory loss drug, or something? She could've sworn she remembered hearing that somewhere.

Yet another reason why this was all fucking Kenny McCormick's fault. Wendy had been cursing the boy's name from the moment she'd rolled over in bed and picked up her phone to find that her alarm had been going off silently for nearly an hour, "do not disturb" icon still lit in the corner of the screen. She'd fallen out of bed and scrambled into a pair of jeans before remembering that her mother had hung the majority of her clothes up in the backyard. A quick glance to her bedroom window had alerted her to the fact that, oh, good, it was pouring rain outside. With no time to worry about it, she grabbed the purple zip-up hoodie that was slung over her desk chair, snatched up her backpack and dashed from her bedroom.

Now here she was, one cold commute and rain-soaked dash across campus later, running out of breath as she finally reached the top of the stairwell. Room 405, her phone told her; figured that the class she was late for would be on the top floor. Wendy made it down the hallway as fast as she could before finally reaching the door of her classroom. Skidding to a halt, she didn't even think to take a moment to compose herself before shakily turning the knob and practically barging inside.

Which was probably not the best course of action to take on the first day of classes. Wendy wasn't sure what the elderly professor at the head of the classroom had been saying before she'd interrupted, but whatever it was came to a dead halt as soon as Wendy stepped through the door. She'd planned to discretely make her way to the closest empty seat, but now she found herself frozen in her spot, the eyes of not only the professor, but of every (suddenly-attentive) student in the room keeping her right where she was. In retrospect, Wendy couldn't imagine having actually made eye contact with each of the thirty-odd students in the room, but at that moment it sure felt like she had. After what seemed like an eternity frozen in time, Wendy finally looked back to the professor, a syllabus held in his outstretched hand.

"Wendy Testaburger?" he asked.

"Yesssss…" Wendy let out an embarrassed hiss.

"Please take your seat," he requested in what Wendy could already tell was an oppressively boring monotone. "We were just going through the class syllabus before you decided to join us." Ugh.

"Sure!" Wendy obeyed hastily as she backed away towards the classroom's remaining seats. "Of course. I'm sorry. Won't happen again." She tried to ignore the sound of her wet Doc Martens squeaking against the classroom's linoleum floor as she found a seat towards the back.

Nearly an hour later, Wendy awoke from a daze when she realized that her professor seemed to have finally finished reviewing the syllabus. Wiping a bit of drool from the corner of her mouth, she looked down at the notebook open on her desk to find that she'd at least managed to jot a few things down. Five graded oral presentations, the first of which would be assigned on Friday. That didn't sound too bad. Wendy began to pack up her things and joined the rest of her classmates in heading for the door, before pausing outside to check the time and location of her next class. She had just pulled MPCC's online campus back up when she felt something knock into her ankle from behind. Startled, she turned around to find that the something was a long aluminum crutch, attached to the forearm of a boy she hadn't seen since high school.

"Jimmy Valmer," she greeted the boy with pleasant surprise.

"Wendy Testaburger," he replied. The boy's braces were long-gone but he still spoke with a bit of a lisp. "I couldn't b-b-believe that, that, that that was you in class!" And his stutter, of course.

"I can't believe I didn't notice you in class!" Wendy apologized. "Although it has been a while, I guess; and I wouldn't expect to find you here. I thought you decided to try to do the stand-up comedy thing instead of school?"

"Oh I still am! My m-m-material's as sharp as ever, but my stage presence could use some work, believe it or not. My mom suggested I take a public speaking class and I thought h-h-hey, why n-n-not? That's bound to help, right?"

"Yeah, I guess!" Wendy replied a little nervously. She hadn't been expecting to run into anyone she knew at this school, let alone in one of her own classes. She swallowed. God, please don't let him ask about why she was taking classes here.

"But why are you t-t-taking classes here? I thought you split for the big city after high school?" Right on cue.

"It's a long story," she tried to answer without grimacing. She wasn't sure if she succeeded.

"Well I'm f-f-finished for the day. Why don't I walk you to your next class so you can t-t-tell me about it?"

Ugh, really? Jimmy always  _was_  a little uncomfortably friendly. "Why not?" Wendy sighed before glancing back at her phone. "My creative writing class is actually just down on the first floor. Elevator?"

"If you wouldn't mind."

The elevator chimed just as Wendy finished filling Jimmy in, a neon green "1" illuminated on the digital screen above the elevator's buttons.

"So unless I figure out a way to pay for school it looks like I'm stuck here for the foreseeable future," Wendy finished with a sigh. Nothing like publicly ruminating on your own failures two days in a row.

"Well gee," Jimmy replied, following Wendy out of the elevator. "That certainly sounds r-r-rough, Wendy. Any idea what you're gonna do?"

"I dunno," she confessed. "Honestly I kinda spent the whole summer in this like, depressed stupor, so I haven't even managed to find a job yet."

"Times are t-t-tough. I don't think I know anywhere around that's hiring."

"So I've heard."

"I guess you could always rob a bank," Jimmy tried to joke.

"Very funny," Wendy sighed.

"Or you know, there's always turning tricks on the street corner," Jimmy continued. "Or hey, maybe you could sell druuuhhh…" he trailed off. "Sell druhh.. S-s-sell-"

"I could sell drugs," Wendy finished. She'd stopped walking, allowing the boy to pass her as she stood frozen in her spot.

Jimmy turned back around to face her. "Although it would seem you'd be m-m-morally opposed to that kinda thing."

Wendy stared at him in confusion for a moment before the boy nodded at her. "Your t-shirt?"

Wendy looked down. She'd forgotten that she was still wearing Kenny's D.A.R.E. shirt. Wendy clenched her eyes shut tight. God fucking dammit.

**Chapter 6: Maybe You Can Owe Me**

"What's that thing on your neck."

Kenny blinked twice as his attention shifted from the sound of Brian Wilson's voice flowing from the speakers in front of him back to the interior of his car. Its tank filling up with gas. Rain beating down on its hood. Hot air blasting its occupants in the face. His Hattie's polo tossed into the back seat. Craig Tucker taking a hit and handing him his pipe.

"Why do you listen to this choir boy bullshit," Craig exhaled. "Did you hear me."

"I would've made a great choir boy."

"Fuck you. How was your date."

"If you must know," Kenny finally replied, "It went well. Too well."

"Too well," Craig repeated. Kenny tried to tell if he'd ended his echo with a question mark.

"Too well," Kenny nodded. "Yep… think I mighta caught feelings, Craig." Kenny lit himself a hit with the red 7-11 lighter that had replaced the orange one he'd given to Wendy. "Lucky for you, I don't think it's in the stars."

"Why is that lucky for me."

"Because it means you can keep banging me in the storage room on your lunch breaks, ya fuckin' queer."

Craig gave Kenny the finger, withdrawing only to take back the pipe for another hit.

"But no, it was great," Kenny continued. He gasped. "Oh! Dude! I got her high for the first time. Can you remember the last time you got a chick high for the first time? Oh, I mean…"

"No. I can't."

"Well, it was a fun night."

"So what went wrong?" Craig took another hit before handing the pipe back to Kenny. "Did you get her so high that she freaked out on you or something."

"Nothing went  _wrong_ ," Kenny explained, lighting his pipe. "It was just too weird a match. Ships passing in the night or whatever. I think she was out of my league?"

"When are you and Bebe just going to get married or whatever. Isn't she the closest thing you've ever really had to a real girlfriend or whatever."

"Yeah, I don't think the suicide pact I signed with Bebe in high school expires for another 20 years."

"I'm just saying."

Kenny paused to consider just what Craig was "just saying". "What?" he spat. "What? What is this? Relationship counseling with Craig Tucker?"

"You've never had a real girlfriend."

"Neither have you."

"Ha." Craig was stoned.

"But you haven't," Kenny cooed. "When was the last time you even went on a date? And I don't mean visiting hours at the Youth Therapy Center or lurking around Tweek Bros. whenever your favorite barista is on duty."

"Hey." Craig glared at him, slowing raising his middle finger and grinning. "Eat shit, McCormick."

Kenny snickered. "How long are you here tonight?"

"Closing."

"Oh man. Well, I'll leave you with something before I go."

"Sweet."

"IF. You can guess who my date was. You know her."

"Oh come on, what."

"We went to school with her," Kenny grinned. "Guess."

"Wendy Testaburger."

Kenny's face fell. "What makes you say her?"

"She's standing outside the car."

Kenny's eyes shot up to his rearview mirror to spot a white Prius parked behind his car. He whipped his head around to discover that Wendy Testaburger was indeed standing outside his car window, sheltered under a purple umbrella. He rolled down the window and she ducked down to greet him.

"You know your car filled up like twenty minutes ago, asshole."

"Oh shit, what time is it?"

"It's 2:30 but shut up, we need to talk." Folding up her umbrella, Wendy invited herself into the back seat of Kenny's car. "God," she groaned. "It smells like pot and Burger King back here. Hello, Craig."

"Hey Wendy." Craig almost managed a nod.

"What's up?" Kenny asked, turning around in his seat. "You didn't answer my texts, how's my newest client?"

"I don't want to be your client," Wendy glared at him.

"Alright, alright," Kenny laughed. "Maybe my little stunt yesterday was a little presumptuous. But honestly Wendy, I was just thinking that your transition back to living in South Park might be a little easier if you loosened up and let yourself have some fun every now and then."

"I don't want to be your client," Wendy repeated. "I want to be your partner."

Kenny's eyes widened. What? What did that mean? His mind went back to the Beach Boys after it failed to process what the girl had just said. He might've been too high for this.

"What?" he asked, returning from his momentary stupor.

"I want to sell drugs with you," she told him.

"Oh," Kenny replied.

"I want to be part of the operation. Whatever it is you guys do. I'm a quick learner, just show me the ropes and I can handle myself from there."

"You can't be serious," Craig almost laughed before turning to the blond in the driver's seat. "Kenny?"

"Uhhhhhh," Kenny searched, "Wendyyyyy, whaaaat are you talking about? You're not selling drugs with us."

"Ugh, I knew you would say that. Why not? You  _know_  I'd be good at it."

"Because 1. You're being  _ridiculous_ , 2. I  _don't_ know that you'd be good at it and 3. it would mean Craig and I taking a cut from the overall profits to accommodate your share." What was going on? Was his mouth working correctly? He was definitely too high for this.

"But you'd sell more  _and_  you'd make more!"

"Uh huh, how do you figure?"

"Because I'd be expanding your territory."

"Expanding our territory?" Kenny practically scoffed. "Into where, may I ask?"

"Middle Park, dude! I just started taking classes up there so I'm gonna be there like all the time. Can't you imagine the clientele I'd be able to establish at a community college? With me working up there and you doing your thing here I bet I could like double your profits."

"When did you come up with this little scheme, huh?"

"While I was driving over here."

Kenny blinked. Was this girl for real? "IIIIIIII dunno" he said slowly.

"Oh please, it sounds so good," Wendy insisted. "You know it does!"

"It'sssss not a bad deal, but I don't know if I believe a girl who's never sold so much as an eighth before is going to double my profits."

"So let me sell one," Wendy said quickly. "If I show you that I can do it will you let me in?"

Wendy fucking Testaburger. Kenny bit his lip. "Okay," he finally relented. "Yeah. Sure."

"What," Craig deadpanned.

"That sounds fair," Kenny said as he reached over to Craig's side of the car to pop open the glove compartment. "This is absurd, don't get me wrong; like, stupid crazy. But that sounds fair." He removed a small plastic bag from inside and tossed it into the backseat before shutting the glove compartment and turning around to find that Wendy had caught it in her hands. "That's an eighth of pot," he told her. "And I want it back if you don't sell it by the weekend. I'm not giving you anymore free drugs, Testaburger, and you won't be dealing with me if you can't sell that first."

"Fine," Wendy agreed, narrowing her eyes as she clutched the bag in her fist.

"Hey, I don't like this," Craig droned from the passenger seat.

"Oh, well, you don't like anything," Kenny replied.

"I like… several things."

"Yeah, both of them blond."

"Is one of them you?" Wendy asked Kenny, pointing at the boy's head.

"No," Craig answered, lighting himself another hit.

"Give me that!" Kenny shouted as he grabbed the pipe from Craig's hands. "Both of you get out of my car! I was late like ten minutes ago!"

"What about the stuff you were going to leave me?" Craig asked as he got out of the car.

"I just gave it to Wendy," Kenny gestured to the back seat, but the girl had already left without saying goodbye. Kenny looked to his rearview mirror to find her hastily returning to her own car. His eyes narrowed.

"But I assume I guessed right."

Kenny paused, eyes still fixed to the mirror as the white Prius backed up and drove away. "No. You didn't."

* * *

Kenny swore as he turned his car towards South Park High, realizing that he'd meant to lower the windows before he'd gotten so close to his destination. "Shit shit shit," he hissed as he reached for the button on the side of his door, opening the car's windows and allowing the torrential rain that was still pouring outside to blow into his face. He might get soaked, but hopefully a windblown five minutes would be enough to rid the car of its lingering odor of "pot and Burger King", as Wendy had so eloquently described it.

Kenny arrived to find the high school deserted, any students that might have loitered around after classes driven away by the pouring rain. Kenny scanned the school's front lawn, finally spotting a figure taking refuge under the awning that hung over the building's front door, its features obscured by an oversized yellow raincoat. After raising his windows, Kenny honked his horn and the figure picked up the backpack that was set on the ground beside it, making its way through the rain towards Kenny's car.

"You were supposed to pick me up like half an hour ago," Karen groaned as she climbed into the passenger seat beside her brother. "Why is the inside of your car soaking wet?"

"There was something wrong with the windows," Kenny lied as he backed out of the parking lot and made his way back to the street. "That's why I was late."

"Are you sure you didn't just lose track of time hanging around the gas station with  _Craaaiiig_?" the girl asked, her voice drawing out the other boy's name as if Craig were his secret boyfriend or something.

"Ugh don't talk about Craig as if he were like, my secret boyfriend or something. I don't think I'm quite his type."

"I dunno, you'd make a cute couple," Karen mused.

"Regardless. Why did I agree to pick you up again?"

"Because you want to hear about your little sister's first day of high school, duh."

"How could I have forgotten?" Kenny rolled his eyes as he stopped his car at a red light. "So how'd it go?"

"It was okay, I guess. My classes seem fine but I don't know anyone in my lunch period so that's a bummer."

"You didn't make any new friends?" It was a question he'd been reluctant to ask, fearing that he already knew the answer. While Karen frequently demonstrated the same quick wit and sense of humor that her brother often used to win friends and acquaintances, she'd never seemed to handle herself as well with her own classmates. Not that Kenny couldn't understand, of course; he imagined being "the poor kid" in school was an even harder reputation to navigate when you were a teenage girl.

"Not really," Karen admitted with a sigh. "The only one who really talked to me was this guy in my geometry class, I think he was a sophomore."

"Thaaaaat is like the last thing I want to hear."

"He actually seemed pretty cool; maybe a little weird though." Karen's tone became ponderous as she continued. "He told me that I have a 'fascinating aura.' He said he could tell that there was a darkness very close to me. What do you think  _that_  means?"

"I think it means he was trying to get in your pants."

"Ugh, don't be gross; I don't think he's like that. I mean, he hangs out with the goth kids."

Kenny was thankful that his car wasn't currently in motion; otherwise, he might have crashed it. "Oh my god, no."

"No what?"

"No, that's Firkle. You're not going to be friends with Firkle."

"Uh, excuse me?"

"Look, the goth kids are creeps, and he's like the worst one. Trust me on this, I used to have nightmares about that kid coming after me with a knife."

"He didn't seem like a creep. He was telling me about how his band played at this house party last weekend. He even invited me to their next gig."

Kenny's eyes narrowed as the light turned green. This was something he'd neglected to plan for, a development he must have known was coming, yet still managed to overlook. Hell, he might need Wendy Testaburger after all.

"I don't think I want you going to those kinds of parties," Kenny told his sister. "And I  _know_  I don't want you hanging out with Firkle and the goth kids."

"What're you gonna do?" Karen countered slyly. "Put on that gay costume and beat them up?"

"I dunno if I'd even fit into the Mysterion suit anymore."

"Who is Mysterion?" Kenny's sister smirked at him.

"Who  _is_ Mysterion?" Kenny smirked back.

* * *

"Hey, uh… I think class is over."

Wendy jerked awake with a snort, finally free of what could only be described as a three-day-community-college-induced-black-out-fugue-state. The last thing she could remember was sitting in gridlock traffic on her way home from school Tuesday evening; the dull heat filling the car; the hypnotic motion of windshield wipers fighting against the rain; and then, nothing. Darkness; void; her body moving devoid of her control or knowledge.

Looking around to find herself back in Public Speaking class, shaken awake by an auburn-haired girl in green flannel that had been sitting beside her, Wendy wasn't sure which was worse: metaphysical purgatory or community college.

Except no, wait, it wasn't really a question at all — seeing as how the fact that Wendy was back in Public Speaking meant that it was Friday, and if the faint but recognizable smell she was suddenly able to notice coming from her backpack was any indication then she hadn't managed to somehow miraculously sell that eighth of weed Kenny had given her at any point in her fugue state.

"Fuuuuuuck," Wendy groaned, sinking back into her seat.

"Whatever," the classmate who'd made the mistake of rousing her said apprehensively as she backed away towards the door. "You're welcome." The classroom door slammed behind her leaving Wendy to sit alone in silence, her brain warming up and whirring back to life. If she was going to do anything, she'd have to do it fast. Whipping out her phone, she scrolled through her contacts list, desperately searching for any of her friends or acquaintances on whom she could possibly unload a few grams of illegal drugs.

Reaching the end of the list, she groaned in frustration; anyone she could possibly think to contact was a good couple states away. Besides, who could she even let know that she'd reached such an unfathomably low place in her life? It was Friday afternoon; the friends she'd made at school were probably just gearing up for another exciting weekend in the city and here she was, stuck in South Park and sleepwalking through community college, having an emotional crisis over the fact that she couldn't figure out how to initiate a drug deal. Way to fucking go, girl. Wendy lowered her head to rest it against the desk in front of her as she wondered how her life had turned into such an absurdly pathetic joke.

...Wait a second.

Wendy sprinted down the hallway of the Middle Park Community College communications building's top floor, racing in the direction of the elevator and praying that she hadn't spent too long sitting around after class and wallowing. Turning a corner, she dodged an incoming group of students, ducking and weaving between them as the elevator's bell chimed and announced that it had arrived on the floor. She raced around one last corner to find its doors already beginning to close. Wendy grit her teeth and swore under her breath, propelling herself forward with one last rush of adrenaline to wedge herself between the closing doors and worm her way into the elevator as they finally closed behind her. Out of breath, she leaned back and slid down the wall, until she sat panting on the elevator floor.

"Uh… which f-f-floor?"

Wendy looked up to see Jimmy Valmer standing by the elevator's buttons. Wendy sighed in relief. All according to plan.

"Heyyyyyy Jimmmmy," Wendy greeted the boy, stretching out her words as she picked herself up and tried to regain her composure. "Ground floor, if you don't mind."

"Certainly," the boy replied as he reached out to hit the button. Wendy squirmed, super conscious of the drugs concealed in her backpack. She could feel them in there; as if they were heavy; as if they were weighing her down.

"So, Jimmy," she started as the elevator began to descend. "Do you remember that, uh… conversation we had at the beginning of the week."

"W-w-well sure I do, Wendy," he replied. "About how you're stuck going to school here because you couldn't afford NYU anymore, right?"

Wendy fought back a grimace. "Riiiiight… Anyways, I was thinking about that  _funny joke_ you came up with; what was it? Something about me selling drugs to pay my way through school?"

"Sounds like my sense of humor! Sardonic; d-d-dry. I talk about real stuhhh… Real stuhhhh… R-r-r-"

"Real stuff!" Wendy finished as the elevator reached the ground floor. God, she didn't have time for this shit. "That's the thing about you, Jimmy; you keep it real. It's something I've, uh, always admired about your comedy."

"W-w-wow Wendy, thanks! Always good to hear from the fans."

The doors opened and Wendy followed Jimmy out into the communications building lobby. "Where're you parked?" she asked the boy.

"Lot 6," Jimmy replied. "How about you?"

"Same, actually!" she lied, fishing a small umbrella out of her backpack. "Let's walk together! So have you ever smoked pot?"

"What?" Jimmy froze in confusion, allowing Wendy to pass in front of him.

"What?" she asked back, turning around.

"D-d-did you just ask me if I smoke weed?"

"Whaaaaaat?" Wendy repeated, this time with a bit of a nervous laugh. "No! I mean, uh, I asked if you  _have_ smoked weed. Like before. In your life. Relax dude, I'm not a narc!" She tried to give Jimmy her best reassuring smile, hoping that she just didn't end up grinning like a lunatic. To her relief, Jimmy cautiously seemed to ease up as the two resumed their walk to the parking lot. Good, she hadn't blown this yet.

"Sorry," he laughed. "I guess I w-w-wasn't expecting to be asked a question like that by Wendy T-t-t-testaburger of all people!"

"Nah, I get it dude! I guess I was just wondering 'cause I know some comedians are like, total stoners." Wendy tried to sound as casual as possible. She opened her umbrella as the two stepped outside, offering Jimmy shelter from the howling wind and pouring rain that hadn't let up all week.

"That hasn't really been my experience," Jimmy explained. "I mean, I've smoked p-p-pot at p-p-parties before, but that's about it. I don't need to get high to write my j-jokes or anything."

"Oh, I wouldn't have expected that," Wendy reassured him. "I just thought… I dunno… maybe a little something to take the edge off before a stand up set, or something like that."

Jimmy laughed. "I couldn't imagine g-g-getting stoned and having to tell jokes to a whole audience full of p-p-people!"

Jesus, this kid was giving her nothing. "Doesn't pot like, relax you though? I feel like it'd be the perfect thing to get rid of any pre-show jitters."

"Y-y-you think?"

"Oh yeah, totally! Don't they even prescribe medical marijuana for anxiety now?"

"I guess I always do feel a little anxious up on stage, now that you m-m-mention it."

Ugh, finally. "I can imagine!" Wendy replied emphatically. "But I bet like… I dunno… smoking a joint or something before you go on would be like the ultimate version of imagining everybody in the audience wearing nothing but their underwear."

Jimmy chuckled as the two finally reached his car, its headlights flashing as he remotely unlocked its door. "That's funny, Wendy! M-m-maybe you should be the comedian!"

"Maybe! I wouldn't want to compete with you though, especially once you've perfected your stage presence."

"You really think weed might help with that?"

"Totally! I mean, I don't have a lot of experience smoking it myself, but I bet it would really help you relax."

"Huh," Jimmy contemplated, lingering outside of his car with her. "I'd d-d-definitely be willing to give it a try! Anything for my craft, you know? It's too bad that I d-d-don't have a good hook up."

"I can sell you some!" Wendy blurted out. She resisted the temptation to cover her mouth with her hands, lest any subsequent torrents of word-vomit come spewing out.

Jimmy seemed perplexed. "You…?" he started, clearly at a loss for words.

Wendy tried to play it cool. "It's funny, actually," she started babbling, "This friend of mine at school last year actually gave me some pot to hold onto while her dorm was up for inspection, and I guess we both forgot about it? Anyways, I found it still hidden away in one of my bags the other day, after we talked on Monday, which is a crazy coincidence, right! And you know, I'm trying to save up some money every chance I get so I thought hey why not make a couple bucks, just like you said, you know? But I had no idea where I could possibly sell it since I think the government shut down the deep web or whatever, until I thought of you, because you gave me the idea in the first place and like hey! How mutually beneficial right?"

So much for playing it cool. God, what was she talking about? Where had any of that come from? Jimmy hadn't said a word, of course, hadn't even stammered. He just stared at her in confusion. She prayed that she could still pull this off.

"Sooooo you wanna buy some?" she asked hopefully, clutching the straps of her backpack and smiling like she wasn't a crazy person. Jimmy remained silent, clearly hesitant and probably totally freaked out by the fact that the most ambitious girl he'd gone to high school with was now trying to sell him drugs in the parking lot of a community college.

"How much?" he finally asked. Holy  _shit_.

Wendy heard a hallelujah choir sound in her head in disbelief as she scrambled to pull off her backpack. "Goooooood question!" she chimed nervously as she unzipped the bag and started searching around inside for the pot. She realized she probably should've researched the market value of marijuana online or something, but forgave herself on the grounds that she hadn't exactly been mentally present for the past couple days.

"Well let's seeeeee," she continued to bullshit. "I remember my friend telling me that this was like an eighth of an ounce, so that's what, three and a half grams? Marijuana's not cheap, either; this other kid I went to school with was from California, where you can just buy pot from dispensaries if you have a license, and I think he told me the good shit can go for up to twenty bucks a gram there. So seeing as how this particular strain is verrrrrry potent, I would saaaaayy…seventy bucks?" That sounded reasonable, right?

"Geez," the boy replied. "I dunno… that isn't ch-ch-cheap…"

Shit shit shit! "Welllll how about sixty? Since we're friends and all!"

After one more moment of hesitation, Jimmy finally reached for his wallet. "Well, I guess I could swing that," he told her, pulling out a few crumpled up twenties. "I-I mean, if you really think it would help my art!"

Wendy tried to reassure the boy as she took his money and discretely handed him her small bag of pot. "C'mon, this is me we're talking about; Wendy Testaburger! Would I steer you wrong?"

Jimmy stashed the pot in his backpack before throwing it into the backseat of his car. "I guess not!" he said over his shoulder. "I mean it's n-n-not like you're some sleazy drug dealer or anything, right?" He turned back around to find that the girl gone, already halfway across the parking lot, umbrella blowing in the wind behind her as she dashed away across the flooded pavement.

* * *

Kenny reclined in bed, holding his breath as he stared up at the ceiling of his room and balanced a large translucent bong on his stomach. Music played softly from the speakers that sat on a dresser pushed into the far corner of his bedroom.  _Sgt. Pepper's;_ John Lennon sang of tangerine trees and marshmallow skies as the heavy rain beat against Kenny's window. The sun had set nearly an hour ago, but the clouds had remained, continuing their weeklong residency in the skies of South Park and resulting in yet another dark and stormy night.

His eyes beginning to water, Kenny exhaled up towards the ceiling, adding to the thin layer of smoke already hanging in the air. Rainy weekends often spelled disappointment for Kenny: harsh weather generally meant less parties, less people going out, and less opportunities for Kenny to peddle his wares. But tonight he was trying to relax. Craig was already working a party tonight, and Kenny had enough lined up for the weekend to allow for a quiet Friday night spent indoors. Butters wouldn't be back from Dougie's until late, which even meant Kenny had the apartment to himself; not that such a thing mattered on nights that found him content curling up in his room with his bong and a few good records.

Kenny reached for the lighter that he'd set on the nightstand beside his bed, grabbing his phone instead after hearing it vibrate against the hard wood surface. He'd scarcely let the device leave his hand all week; after all, it wasn't every day that he found himself waiting on pins and needles for confirmation that Wendy Testaburger had successfully sealed a drug deal. Every vibration, every tiny buzz sent his hands digging into his pockets; while he was at work, while he was at home, even while he was driving. But now it was Friday, the last day that he'd given the girl to prove herself, and he'd still yet to hear from her. It'd gotten to the point where he couldn't tell whether he felt disappointed or relieved, but the sensation in his stomach brought on by every small vibration of his phone was enough for him to realize that he actually was hoping that this still could happen… at least if he cared to admit it.

Kenny's stomach settled as he picked up his phone to find that the alert was just a text from Craig. "This party blows," it read. "Nobody wants to buy. There are like twelve people here and no one will even bet on pong with me."

"What're you wearing?" Kenny texted back. He grinned as he tried to imagine a surly Craig Tucker trying to hustle some high schoolers out of their allowances over drinking games that the boy had probably perfected in the seventh grade. Kenny was just about to put his phone back down when a text from Butters dropped in from the top of the screen.

"Hey Kenny!" his roommate had messaged him politely. "I just wanted to let you know that I'll be sleeping over Dougie's tonight! This rain is a nightmare!"

"Cool," Kenny texted back. "Yeah it's probably a better idea to just stay inside tonight. You'd have to be totally insane to be out driving around in this mess."

Having sent his reply, Kenny ripped another hit from his bong before the shrill cry of a car horn sounding from the streets below almost startled it out of his hands. Tires screeched against the wet street outside as Kenny put down his piece and moved over to the window to investigate. Pulling the window open, he popped his head outside, looking down to the street only to find that a white Prius had jumped the curb in front of his building, having stopped just short of colliding with the brick wall five stories below his window. His eyes wide, Kenny pulled himself away from his window slowly, before slamming it shut, grabbing his parka and making a break for the stairs.

* * *

Her hands still shaking, Wendy sighed as she shifted her car into park; not that it mattered, considering only two wheels were still on the road. She let her head fall forward and hit the steering wheel in front of her with a groan before a knock on her window drew her attention back outside to a parka-clad figure standing in the rain. Fantastic.

"Don't even say anything," she started as she emerged from the car, pulling up her hood against the rain. She walked around to the front of her car, relieved to find that it had managed to make it over the curb unscathed.

"What even happened?" Kenny offered in reply.

"I think my brakes flooded. I dunno, the roads are horrible."

"Yeah, I don't think you're going anywhere tonight…"

Wendy grimaced as the wind picked up, blowing the rain into her face. "I was afraid you were going to say that."

* * *

Kenny hung up his soaking parka and kicked off his wet sneakers as Wendy unlaced her boots on his couch for the second time in the same week.

"You're sure my car will be okay just parked out on the street?"

"Yeah, it'll be fine," he assured her. "Butters parks there all the time because he can never seem to find a space in our lot, which is weird 'cause our spot is like literally always open whenever I look for one." Kenny moved into the kitchen and started searching the apartment's cabinets for some tea, hot chocolate, or anything else that might regather the warmth he and Wendy had lost in the half-hour it had taken them to maneuver her car back onto the street. "I dunno if we have any hot chocolate," he called into the living room as he shut the cabinet door. "Do you wanna play Mario Kart or anything?"

Wendy sunk into the couch and looked up at the ceiling. "I'd rather not relive the accident I just almost got into, thanks. I kinda just wanna get high and sleep forever."

Kenny did a double-take. "Uh, excuse me?" he laughed.

Wendy's eyes shifted in her head to look over at him. "What, isn't that where this night was going?"

"You tell me," Kenny asked, leaning against the kitchen counter. "You still got that eighth I gave you?"

Stone-faced, Wendy dug into her pocket and pulled out the three twenties Jimmy had given her for the weed.

"No waaaaayyyy, Testaburger!" Kenny exclaimed excitedly as he practically ran over to the couch to snatch the money. "Is this sixty dollars? I've been selling eighths for forty! WHO did you find that would pay this much!?"

"Just some kid in one of my classes," she quickly lied. "I mean he was trying to get it for way less but y'know… I worked the ol'… Testaburger… magic on him." Fuck, that probably sounded way dorkier than she'd intended. "So you can take those sixty bucks and shove 'em up Craig's ass."

"Uh huuuuh," Kenny humored her as he pocketed the cash. "Well, I'm impressed, Wendy. I honestly had my doubts that you could pull it off."

"So when do we start?"

Kenny looked back at the couch to find Wendy returning his gaze. Shit. He'd gotten so excited over the reality of Wendy Testaburger selling drugs that he'd almost forgotten what her success meant. Still, a deal was a deal. Wendy had managed to prove herself capable of moving product, so why not give her a shot? As much as he'd tried to resist admitting it, business had been better. Maybe a little of the old Testaburger magic was exactly what he needed. He'd given himself the week to consider it, but he was surprised by how easy it was now to make the choice. He could sell with Wendy.

"We can start soon." He watched Wendy exhale, as if a tension that had spent days building inside of the girl was finally free to release itself. "Are you busy this weekend? I can show you the ropes first thing in the morning. Don't make plans for tomorrow night either," he smiled at her. "We're working."

"Okay," she replied with resolve. "Cool."

"But first," he continued as he got up off the couch. "Let's celebrate. I believe you mentioned something about getting high and sleeping forever? I might be able to help you with one of those, at least."

Wendy looked up at him, still glued to the couch. "I think it's a little too rainy for the rooftop."

"It's cool, I've got like half a bowl already packed in my room; and plenty more where that came from."

"Thank god." With a sleepy groan, Wendy lifted herself up from the couch and followed Kenny into his room.

Flicking on the lights, Kenny gestured towards the bong on the nightstand next to his bed. "Help yourself," he told her before heading towards the other corner of the room, where a vinyl record sat spinning silently on a small red turntable positioned between two speakers on one of the boy's dressers.

Wendy sat down on Kenny's bed, taking one of Kenny's pillows and placing it between herself and the wall before picking up Kenny's bong to find a decent amount of singed weed packed into its bowl. She shifted it around in her hands, sliding the bowl out of the small opening that led to its main chamber before sliding it back in. The water inside looked gross. What was she supposed to do with this thing?

Wendy looked up as the Beatles began to play softly from Kenny's speakers. Warm sitars and the hushed, almost reluctant vocals of George Harrison. "Nice," she nodded to him in approval as he walked back over to the bed.

"Not too cool for the Beatles?" he asked, sitting down beside her and resting against the remaining pillow.

"I mean, I haven't listened to them in forever."

"I'm going through a 60's pop phase. It may sound cliché, but  _Sgt. Pepper's_  is a reliable album to get stoned to."

"I always thought it was kind of overrated."

"Are you kidding me? It's great. Four twenty-somethings on LSD turning the sounds of their childhood into music. Except for that part where Paul McCartney tries to fuck a cop." Kenny looked to the bong in her hands. "Did you take a hit?"

"I don't know how to use this thing, dude."

"Oh my god. Oh my god, Wendy. You want to deal drugs and you don't even know how to use a bong. I'm going to have to teach you everything. Like some kind of stoner version of  _My Fair Lady_."

"That was a weird reference," Wendy frowned at him. "How much had you already smoked before I got here?"

"My little sister likes musical theatre," Kenny explained as he took the bong from her. "Look, you just put your mouth to this part and inhale. While you're making the water bubble you light the bowl and let the chamber fill with smoke. Then, you lift the bowl and inhale the smoke." Kenny proceeded to do everything he'd just described, filling his lungs with smoke before exhaling in Wendy's direction. "It's easy."

Wendy stared at him skeptically. "Don't you ever feel gay sucking on something so big and long and phallic?"

Kenny paused. "Yeah," he shrugged.

Wendy took the bong and did as Kenny had shown her.

"Whachya think?" he asked as she held in her first hit.

"I like it," she said through a mouthful of smoke. She handed him back the bong. "I like the bubbles."

"Me too," Kenny nodded as he lit himself another hit, studying her as he sucked in the smoke from the bong. "You know, this might be tougher than I thought," he finally exhaled. "Who's gonna buy  _you_ as a drug dealer? People are gonna think you're a cop. Like on some kinda  _21 Jump Street_ shit or something."

Wendy took the bong back. "Relax. I'm a cute girl; everyone's gonna wanna buy drugs from me."

"You're not cute, you're pretty," Kenny told her as she ripped herself another hit. "There's a difference. Pretty girls don't sell drugs."

"Ooh, you really think I'm pretty?" Wendy practically sneered at him as she exhaled. She was already feeling more relaxed. Relaxed enough to not spare too much thought to the fact that getting high with Kenny McCormick had somehow managed to be the high point of her life two weeks and counting.

A few bong rips in and she felt light enough to float right off Kenny's bed, even as her back slid down the wall and she sank deeper into it. Kenny sat to her right; he was talking about… something. The Beatles? She wasn't really listening to him. She was too busy looking down her legs at her feet, and wiggling her toes, and taking the bong from him for another hit every time he passed it to her. The room had become warmer and smaller with every hit, the haze of smoke that blanketed the air growing thicker as the night progressed. She'd lost track of how much she'd smoked, but she was fairly certain that Kenny had paused to repack their bowl at least twice. She looked back at him to find that he was still talking. She hadn't heard a word he'd said, but she had to admit it was nice having him there to turn around and look at whenever she wanted to.

"I sold that eighth to Jimmy Valmer."

Kenny coughed out his most recent hit. "No fucking way."

"He's in my public speaking class at Middle Park CC," she giggled.

"Oh, how  _was_ your first week of school?"

"I might drop out." Wendy took another hit.

"Jimmy Valmer… God… I don't think I knew that kid even smoked."

"He doesn't."

"Even better. What did you even tell him you were selling him?"

"I didn't know what to tell him, dude. I just said it might help him chill out."

"Well you're not wrong. I think that was an indica I gave you."

"What's that?"

"There are two different like… types of weed… strains of which have different effects on you when you smoke 'em. There are indicas, which chill you out and relax you, and then there are sativas, which often result in a more… euphoric sensation. That's what-"

"You gave me last weekend," Wendy finished.

"Yeah, how'd you know? Did you feel euphoric?" He grinned at her.

"Shut up," she chuckled.

"Well how do you feel now?"

"Goooooood," she said slowly as her body shifted and tilted to its side, leaving her leaning into Kenny's shoulder. With another small movement she was practically curled up beside him. It was all she could do to not fall asleep right there, enjoying the sound of the rain and the warmth of Kenny's room as she felt the boy's body soften and relax into her own. "I feel toasty; like I'm a roasted marshmallow."

"This is an indica," she heard him speak beside her. "It's called 's'mores'."

"I didn't know that you painted."

"What?" She felt his body shake with a small laugh.

"The painting you have in the corner over by your record player. You've worked on it more since last weekend."

She waited for Kenny's reply. "I started back in high school… It got me through some dark stuff, I guess."

"I like the colors. I couldn't tell what it was a week ago… but now I think I see it. It's South Park."

"I painted it up on the roof."

Wendy paused. "You make this town look pretty nice. I'm sorry if I made you feel bad for not trying to leave."

"Nah, I get it." Kenny was quiet for a moment too. "I've just never been afraid of dying in my hometown."

Wendy sat in silence before murmuring a reply. "I've never been afraid of dying. Just... getting old."

Kenny didn't respond, just turned his head to look at her. She tilted her head up to look back at him, his blue eyes meeting her hazel gaze. She thought she could feel him breathing.

Wendy realized that the music had stopped as they slowly leaned in closer. She could just make out the sound of the needle running over the empty grooves of the vinyl record beneath the din of rain tapping against the window. Her mind refused to consider any of the choices that currently faced her. All she could think about was how warm and soft and light she felt; how close Kenny was, and how close she was to him.

And how much closer they were getting.

"NEVER COULD SEE ANY OTHER WAY" the Beatles shrieked and chattered ad infinitum as Sgt. Pepper's hit the locked groove at the end of its b-side and Kenny's speakers boomed back to life.

Kenny shot up from the bed and rushed over to the turntable, lifting the needle as the record continued to spin soundlessly.

"I always forget about the locked groove when I get stoned," he turned around to grin at her sheepishly. But Wendy was already on her feet, stretching with a sleepy groan.

"I think I gotta go to sleep," she said quietly. "Can I get a pillow and a blanket for the couch?"

"Oh! You're just gonna-"

"Yeah. You know..."

"Cool." Kenny paused before scrambling towards his closet. "You can just grab a pillow from the bed." Gathering a blanket from the back of the closet, he turned back around to find that Wendy already had one of his pillows between her arms.

"Kenny." She looked at him seriously. Kenny tried to determine whether he saw any sadness behind her eyes. "You understand. Right? That's the only way that this is gonna... be okay. Y'know?"

He knew. But how nice it had felt to forget. If only for a moment.

"I get it," Kenny nodded with a smile. "You're probably right."

Wendy smiled back as Kenny handed her the blanket. "Thanks. For everything, so far."

"Let's just hope that ol' Testaburger Magic doesn't let us down."

Wendy cocked an eyebrow nervously and shrugged, clicking out of the side of her mouth.

"Get some sleep, little marshmallow," Kenny smiled softly.

Wendy nodded. Turning to leave the room, she paused before closing the bedroom door behind her. "Goodnight, Kenny."

"Goodnight, Wendy."

Kenny stood in silence a moment after she'd gone, until he finally began to undress. He moved slowly, as if in a daze. He was tired, and stoned, and tomorrow was going to be a long day. Taking the record from his turntable and returning it to its sleeve, he shut the light and collapsed into bed. He pressed his nose into the remaining pillow, the one Wendy had been leaning on all night but had neglected to take with her. It mostly smelled like pot, but he could swear he could smell a trace of the girl's scent as the rain on his window lulled him to sleep.

* * *

Wendy wasn't sure if she was sober yet when she checked her phone to find that it was nearly 4 AM. The couch in the living room wasn't exactly comfortable, but she'd been too tired to care, and stoned enough to fall asleep as soon as her head hit the pillow Kenny had been leaning on all night. It would make sense to be sober; that she'd be unable to sleep on the uncomfortable couch without the coziness that came from being high.

But if she was sober, why was she actually thinking about trading her spot on the couch for a much more comfortable arrangement only a door away? Shit. This would be... okay, wouldn't it?

* * *

Kenny asked himself the same question as he lay awake in bed, eyes glued to his bedroom door, thoughts stuck on what was just on the other side. His room was quiet.

Blinking, Kenny turned away from the door and looked up to the window, realizing that the clatter of the rain no longer sounded against it. He looked outside to find that the storm had passed, a clear sky of bright stars replacing the dark clouds that had hung around all week. Sitting up, he opened the window, resting his elbows on the sill and leaning outside to breathe in the cool, clear night air.

And to let the smoke out.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So real quick: for those of you in the audience who may be unfamiliar with the Beatles, their 1967 album Sgt. Pepper's Lonely Hearts Club Band ends with a locked groove, a clip of audio that will play on repeat until you actually remove the needle from the record. It's not exactly the best soundtrack for making out w/ yr crush, but for the sake of the fic you can listen to it for yourself: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=V5WY_VeiPR4
> 
> Thanks again for reading, feel free to leave a review!


	7. Zipper Blues

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Wendy and Kenny enjoy some live music. Ike has his concerns.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Been a minute since we last checked in with Wendy and Kenny. Let's see what those crazy kids get up to this time shall we??

Wendy’s eyes opened and closed slowly to greet the morning light leaking into the living room of Kenny’s apartment. The girl was just about to try for five more minutes of sleep before realizing that there was somebody else in the room; somebody standing just a few inches away from the couch.

“Holy shit Butters,” she gasped awake, her eyes shooting open as she recoiled into the couch in surprise. Kenny’s roommate stood over her, looking bashful and nervous, as if he’d been too timid to disturb her sleep.

"Oh gosh Wendy, I didn’t mean to startle you!” the boy began, as frazzled as ever. “It’s just that, uh, I really need to park my car, and I think you’re in the space in front of the building, and Kenny’s in my spot as usual, and uh…"

Wendy rubbed the sleep from her eyes as she sat up on the couch, recollecting the events of the previous night in her mind. “Right. Yeah, sorry. I’ll move my car right away.”

“We’re leaving anyway. Sup Butters?” Wendy turned to see Kenny emerging from his room, swiping through something on his phone, parka slung over his shoulder.

“Where are we going?” Wendy asked as she began to pull on her boots. Hearing her phone vibrate at the foot of the couch, she picked it up to find that Kenny had just texted her an address.

“There,” the boy told her as he pocketed his phone. “You can just follow me though. Are you ready to go? Are you always this slow in the morning?”

Wendy craned her neck to shoot the boy a glare, only to be met by a cocky grin. They remained silent as they made their way down the apartment building’s stairs and out to the street below, Butters trailing at their heels.

“So uh, what did you two get up to last night?” he asked hopefully.

Wendy and Kenny spared each other a quick glance before heading to their separate cars without saying a word.

“Oh, o-okay,” Butters resigned. “See you later maybe!” He watched Wendy’s Prius pull away from the curb before making his way over to his own car, still illegally parked in a loading zone at the end of the block. Drawing closer to unlock the door, he found a parking ticket tucked into one of the vehicle’s windshield wipers.

“Aw, hamburgers…”

**Chapter 7: "Zipper Blues"**

Wendy trailed Kenny’s beat up old Jetta across town and into the parking lot of South Park Storage – practically a village of walk-in lockers and garages housing old computers, dusty rugs and family heirlooms, the sentimental values of which had diminished just enough to land them in the small mountain town’s own redneck version of the Catacombs.

Locking her car behind her, Wendy strode over to Kenny’s Jetta as he fiddled with his key in the car’s door, her Doc Martens splashing in the day-old rain water that still filled the lot’s potholes. “I can’t believe you keep your drugs in a storage locker,” she smirked, sidling up beside him.

Kenny turned around, practically blushing. “You think you’re pretty smart, huh. Who says that’s why we’re here?”

“Well I mean, isn’t it?”

Kenny’s face was pink. “No,” he huffed, before heading off in the direction of the lockers. Wendy followed close behind as the boy led her into the maze of cracked pavement and rusty garage doors.

“Wouldn’t a whole storage locker full of pot totally reek?” Wendy asked as they turned a corner to reach a fork in the path. “Doesn’t this place have security or something?”

“I don’t have a ‘whole storage locker full of pot,’” Kenny answered as they hung a right. “Besides, it’s not like it’d be the strongest smell coming out of one of these things.”

Wendy couldn’t disagree.

Finally, they reached a dead end, a single storage locker at the end of a path that Wendy doubted she could retrace on her own. Kenny pulled out his keys and unlocked the shutter, rolling it up and ducking inside. Wendy followed before Kenny shut them into the locker and pulled a cord hanging from the ceiling to turn on a light and illuminate the interior. As the locker lit up, Wendy found herself among stacks of boxes and racks of old clothes.

In one corner of the locker was what appeared to be a small mock-up of a… mission control center. Broken computers sat on a dingy old desk that looked like it could have been lifted out of a dumpster. In front of the desk sat a rolling chair, with what looked to Wendy like a blue cape draped over the back. Swiveling the chair around, she found a large helmet covered in tin-foil resting in the seat.

“Wait,” she turned to Kenny. “Does this storage locker belong to Butters?”

“Nooooooo!” Kenny replied, as if offended by the accusation that he was freeloading in not only Butters’ apartment, but his storage locker as well. “It’s his grandma’s.”

“You’re really unbelievable, you know that.”

“Look, whatever. He hasn’t used it since he used to come here and play ‘Professor Chaos’ back when we were kids.”

“And now you use it to store your pot. Where is that, by the way?”

Kenny walked over to what looked like a large standing cooler in the corner, which Wendy noticed wasn’t plugged in. As he lifted the lid, Wendy could see that he’d attached some kind of sun lamp to the inside of the cover. Wendy stepped closer and looked inside to see a couple of marijuana plants sitting at the bottom.

Kenny closed the lid. “The sun lamp helps them grow. Enough questions though,” he told her as he shifted his attention to the racks and boxes pushed into the other corner of the locker. “I gotta find something.”

As Kenny continued his search, Wendy noticed a cork board propped up against the opposite wall. Moving closer to investigate, she saw that someone had used it to create some kind of diagram: photos of children – some of whom Wendy recognized as her old elementary school classmates – arranged around a blurry photo of another child, his face obscured by a cowl and mask. Pieces of string attached the children's photos to push-pins marking specific spots in a map of South Park carefully labeled and annotated below. Above the masked child's face were three words.

"Who is Mysterion?"

"What the hell is this?" Wendy asked as she picked the cork board up.

"Huh?" Kenny turned around. "Oh, that must be from when Butters was trying to figure out who that Mysterion kid was."

"Jesus, I like totally forgot about that. Did Butters ever figure it out?"

"What do you mean? Everyone knew it was Kyle, he took his mask off in front of the whole town."

"Oh please, you can't tell me you really bought that.”

"I mean, why would Kyle confess like that if it wasn't actually him?"

"I dunno, but I find it pretty hard to believe that he would've been able to sneak past his mom every night to go jumping around rooftops while he should've been studying. Besides, wearing a mask doesn't really seem to be his style. When did Kyle Broflovski ever do anything for anyone if he couldn't brag about it afterwards? Who knows, maybe that's why he decided to take the fall."

"I never figured you for a conspiracy theorist."

"Hey, I got pretty caught up in the Mysterion hype too. I actually did a little investigating myself. At one point I thought I'd even figured out who he was, but the trail went cold after Kyle confessed and Mysterion disappeared."

"Well who knows," Kenny said as he zipped up his backpack and slung it over his shoulder. "Maybe the truth's still out here. Come on, I got what we need; let's go."

* * *

"So what's the plan tonight?" Wendy asked as the pair finally emerged from the maze of storage lockers back into the parking lot. "You still haven't told me what we're doing."

"We're selling drugs, dude."

"Uh, yeah, I know, but like... Where? To who?"

"Isn't it 'to whom?' Didn't you go to NYU?"

"Oh my god I am already regretting this."

"Relax," Kenny said as he opened his car door and tossed his backpack into the passenger seat. He leaned against the vehicle, resting his arm on the open door. "We're gonna go to a show at the Lanes and see if we can move some product."

"The Lanes. Like... South Park Lanes? That shitty bowling alley up by Middle Park that puts on concerts?"

"Yeah, where Stan's dad did all those Lorde covers like a year ago."

"I heard about that on Facebook..." Wendy half-remembered, rolling her eyes. "Please tell me we're not going to something like that."

"Nah, tonight's like a proper concert, they're clearing out the bowling lanes and everything."

"Well who's playing?"

"A couple bands, but Kerplunk are headlining."

"Kerplunk. Why does that name sound familiar."

"Oh man, you don't remember them? They were only like, THE biggest tween wave band!"

"Oh my god, tween wave?" Wendy practically recoiled in disgust. "All of those bands sounded like shit!"

"I know," Kenny chuckled. "Can you imagine how high the people who still listen to them must need to get to enjoy that stuff?"

Wendy's eyes narrowed. "Truuuuuueeee."

"So we'll go check it out, sell some stuff, and listen to some shitty music. Doesn't sound too bad for a third date, right?"

"What's that supposed to mean."

"Well I'm not counting our little impromptu smoking sesh last night, so after Ike's party and Jack in the Box, this is technically our third date."

"Yeah, I'm walking to my car now," Wendy deadpanned as she turned to go, unlocking her car with the remote attached to her keys.

"Hey you know what the third date means!" Kenny called after her. He laughed as she raised her middle finger and flipped him off without turning around. "I'll pick you up at seven!"

* * *

Wendy practically fell through her bedroom door, dropping her backpack to the ground and collapsing onto her bed. After spending another night stoned beyond all coherence in Kenny’s apartment, it felt good to be back on familiar bedding, if only for a moment. Between her decision to team up with Kenny and her first week of community college, Wendy felt as if she hadn’t had a moment’s rest in days. In fact, she couldn’t actually remember going to bed since… Tuesday? Now that Wendy thought about it, she still couldn’t remember anything from the last couple days.  Shit, after last night she’d almost forgotten about that whole “fugue state” thing. Blacking out for three days sounded like something she might want to talk to a doctor about. The least she could do was hop on the internet and do a little research for herself.

Picking up her phone from the desk next to her bed, Wendy opened up the device’s web browser and ran a quick search on dissociative fugues. The internet directed her to a Web MD article, which explained that states of prolonged amnesia and unexplained behavior can potentially result from long periods of stress or anxiety. Wendy let out a quiet sigh of relief. She’d worried briefly that her state of amnesia might have been some weird side effect of smoking weed with Kenny last weekend. But considering how stress and anxiety had practically been her only friends since she’d gotten back to South Park in June, she figured that this explanation made more sense. Her consciousness had simply gotten so fed up with having to deal with all the shit that plagued Wendy’s existence on a daily basis that it had decided to take a break. Reflecting on the state of mind that occupied her head for the vast majority of her waking hours these days, Wendy could hardly blame her brain for having to take a few sick days.

Reading through the rest of the article left Wendy feeling relieved that she hadn’t seemed to do anything crazy during her blackout. A few additional internet searches yielded reports of people waking up from fugue states thousands of miles away from home, without any form of identification and no way to account for the missing days, weeks, or even months that they’d spent blacked out. Wendy’s recent behavior may not have exactly been typical of how she’d behaved in the past, but at least she’d woken up to find herself seated in her public speaking class at Middle Park Community College and not, say, wandering across NYU’s campus in a confused daze. She shuddered to think about just how embarrassing the outcome of her brain’s vacation may have been before willing such thoughts out of her mind. Nothing she’d read seemed to imply that this kind of thing was a chronic condition and she’d be damned if she’d let it happen again. Nobody fucks with Wendy Testaburger, not even her own brain.

In classic Testaburger fashion, Wendy decided that the best way to deal with an issue as psychically terrifying as losing her grip on reality was by diverting her efforts to solving a more manageable problem. For instance: how was she going to sell drugs at this concert tonight? She assumed Kenny would at least be willing to give her a few pointers, but Wendy always liked to be as prepared as possible. She'd realized on the way home that she actually had no idea how public drug deals went down, especially ones at shows. Sure, she'd caught the occasional whiff of pot at the concerts she'd been to with her friends in New York, but those had mostly been shows in people's basements and living rooms. South Park Lanes was an actual venue; they even usually had a few security guards working the place during concerts. How was Kenny expecting to sell pot in an environment like that?

Turning her attention back to her phone, Wendy navigated away from Web MD to run another search: "how do you sell drugs at a concert?"

Unfortunately, the information provided by the internet's community of drug dealers wasn't quite as helpful as the article she'd read about fugue states. Most of the results that turned up were nothing more than posts on abandoned message boards for drug users, written by people who just seemed to be looking for the same information. Wendy wondered how many of them were also selling drugs with their ex-boyfriend's best friend in order to save money for college.

After browsing the web for a few more minutes, Wendy dropped her phone in frustration. She wasn't exactly expecting "How to Sell Drugs for Dummies", but she was at least hoping for something a little more helpful than "if u can't get rid of drugs at @ a concert ur a fucking idiot".

Wendy groaned and rolled over until her face was pressed down into her pillow. Fuck it, she'd figure something out. The concert wasn't until later, and she had more pressing things to worry about first. Like whether or not she'd managed to find time for a shower during her three-day fugue state. She was sure she could use one at the moment. After all, who knows what unholy stench from the lockers of South Park Storage had managed to cling to her? Ugh, but the shower was all the way down the hall, and her bed was... not...

* * *

Kenny hustled through the doors of Shaky's Pizza Place, late for a lunch appointment that he'd almost forgotten about in the wake of Wendy Testaburger showing up at his door and commandeering the last fifteen hours of his life. Scoping out the dining area, he spotted Ike Broflovski waving from a corner booth.

"You're late," the Canadian nodded as Kenny approached. "I ordered already."

"Ugh thanks, I'm sorry," Kenny apologized as he discarded his parka and took a seat. "I was, uh doing drug stuff."

"I figured. Speaking of which, how'd you do last weekend?"

"At your party? Not too bad! I kinda ended up having to leave before I could get rid of everything I came with, but..."

"Because you had to take Wendy home?" Ike asked. Uh oh. Kenny didn't like the way Ike had said that. Or the look in his eyes. Or that fucking shit-eating grin on his face. God damn it.

"Yeah," Kenny tried to reply as calmly as possible. "Because I had to take Wendy home." He reached for the glass of water sitting on the table in front of him and took a long, slow sip. He could feel Ike's eyes on him the whole time.

"I know that you didn't take Wendy home, Kenny."

Kenny choked on his water. "I knew you knew that I didn't take Wendy home!" He practically shouted. "How did you know that I didn't take Wendy home!"

"Because I saw you dropping her off down the block the next day, dumbass."

Kenny seethed in silence as their waiter arrived, placing a large pizza in the middle of the table.

"And can I get you two anything else?" He asked cheerily.

"No, but come back in a few minutes," Kenny murmured as Ike smiled at him from across the table. "I have a feeling that I'm going to need a drink."

"So what happened," Ike asked after the waiter had left. "I’ve been waiting all week to talk to you about this. Why does Wendy Testaburger leave a party with Kenny McCormick? Where do they go? What do they do?"

"God, I hate this. We just went back to my apartment."

"Yeah, how does that happen? I mean, you're good McCormick but you're not that good. Not even you could charm Wendy Testaburger into leaving a high school party and going back to your place with you. I don't know if anyone on Earth could pull that off."

"Trust me, I'm as surprised as you are. Especially considering the mood she was in that night. I swear to god, I was afraid she was going to burn a hole in my skull every time she glared at me. And she glared at me a lot."

"And yet you still somehow got her to sleep with you."

"That's where I'm gonna have to let you down, kid."

"What do you mean. Are you telling me that you, Kenny McCormick, brought a girl home from a party and didn't have sex with her? I actually find that almost harder to believe than Wendy fucking you."

"Yeah, we're truly through the looking glass now, aren't we." Kenny carefully lifted a slice of pizza from its serving tray and dropped it onto his plate. "The night wasn't a total bust though: I did manage to get her to smoke weed for the first time."

"Whaaaaaaat! That's like way better than you sleeping with her! Jeez. I can't tell you how relieved I am to know that's all that happened, too. The thought of Wendy getting into bed with you had me seriously concerned for the girl's mental health."

"Oh, is that what was bothering you," Kenny deadpanned. "Don't worry, I think letting me smoke her out met Wendy's ‘bad choices’ quota for that night. Afterwards we just kinda played Mario Kart and passed out on my couch. She did let me take her to Jack in the Box the next morning, though."

"That's seriously awesome. It sounds exactly like what she's needed after all the shit she's been dealing with lately. You know, I can't say that's what I had in mind when I asked you to try and lift Wendy's spirits last weekend, but I have to hand it to you Kenny: you always manage to surprise me."

Kenny laughed. "If that surprises you, what I'm about to tell you next is really gonna knock you out: Wendy wants to sell drugs with me."

Now it was Ike's turn to choke on his drink. "Bullshiiiiiit," the Canadian replied. "You can't expect me to believe that."

"For real! You can ask her! Actually wait, don't; she'd probably kill me if she knew I told you."

"Convenient," Ike leered. "I don't believe this. There's no way you could have convinced Wendy to sell drugs with you. What would even be the point? I mean, that would be the most bizarre way you've ever tried to get in a girl's pants."

"Dude! Gross. Creepy. Look, the whole thing was her idea, okay? You know about how she doesn't have the money to keep paying to go to school in New York right? I guess she figured she could try and raise some tuition by selling pot up around Middle Park."

"That’s ridiculous. I mean, Wendy is... I dunno, crafty, but that doesn't sound like her."

"Yeah, I mean, I never really got to know her too well back when she was dating Stan but needless to say, I was pretty shocked myself. Like, I had no idea Wendy was this cool."

"I don't think 'cool' is the word I'd use. I'm actually kinda worried about this."

"Oh c'mon, she'll be fine. She's Wendy Testaburger. I'm almost looking forward to some dumb stoner trying to mess with her, just to see what she'd do to the guy."

"That's not what I meant; seriously, this is weird. This isn’t like her. Forget getting in bed with Kenny McCormick, what kinda state of mind does a girl like Wendy have to be in to start selling drugs with him?"

"You know, a lot of this conversation has been pretty offensive to me."

"This doesn't strike you as extremely odd?"

"I dunno, it doesn't seem too weird to me. The whole college thing doesn't work out so you start selling drugs. I mean, honestly, that's probably what I'd do."

"You didn't have to drop out of college to start selling drugs."

"Yeah, lucky for you and your parties. Hey, speaking of which, how did you get the goth kids to play at your house last week?"

"Firkle owed me a favor, I helped him cheat on his history final last year."

"Oh you're friends with Firkle? Cool. Tell him to stay away from my fucking sister."

* * *

Wendy woke up to the sound of someone knocking on her door.

"Wendy?" She could hear her mother's muffled voice coming from the other side. "Are you in there?"

Ugh, fuck. She must have fallen asleep. One of those accidental naps that, instead of leaving you rested and refreshed, finds you waking up in a puddle of your own drool, unsure of where you are and how you could possibly feel so shitty. Dragging herself out of bed with a yawn, Wendy rubbed her eyes and staggered across the room. Why was it so dark?

"Hey mom," she yawned as she opened the door. "Sorry, I guess I just-"

Wendy's eyes snapped open to find her mother staring at her. Behind her stood Kenny McCormick, his face split by the biggest shit-eating grin Wendy had ever seen.

Wendy wasn't sure if she was having a nightmare or if she was just in hell. She was kind of hoping for the latter, though.

"Wendy..." her mom started. "Your hair..."

Oh no. Wendy's hand shot up to the side of her head to find her undercut exposed. Shit. Wendy hadn't told her mom about the little anxiety haircut she'd gotten before she'd come back home. It wasn't that she thought her mom would disapprove or anything; she just feared that her mother might take it as some kind of cry for help (which, let's be real, it totally kind of was). The last thing she'd wanted to do was give her mom one more thing to worry about.

"...is totally awesome!" Kenny finished for Wendy's mom. "I didn't know you had an undercut!"

Shaken free from her terrified stupor, Wendy slammed the door shut.

"Give me a minute!" she shouted from inside. Kenny McCormick was in her house. Kenny McCormick had talked to her mom. Kenny McCormick, who she'd done drugs with last night. Kenny McCormick who she was going to SELL drugs with tonight. This wasn't happening.

"Is everything okay, dear?" Her mom asked from the hallway. "Kenny said you two had plans tonight and came to see if everything was okay when he didn't hear from you."

Shit. How long had she passed out for? She grabbed her phone from her desk to see that it was 7:30. She winced. Okay but still, he didn't have to come to her house.

God dammit, what was she going to do? She couldn't just tell her mom to send him in; she still had to get dressed, and doing so while her mother knew she had a boy in the room might raise... questions. She couldn't tell her mom to bring Kenny downstairs while she got ready either – who knows what kind of embarrassing shit one might say to the other in the meantime? Wendy was still trying to figure out which option was the lesser evil when she heard her mother's voice from the other side of the door.

"Wendy?" her mom called through the door again. "Are you sure you're okay? If you don’t feel well, I can always tell your friend that you have to stay in tonight."

"No mom, everything's fine!" Wendy called through the door as she began rooting through her closet. Maybe if she was quick enough she could get Kenny out of her house before he managed to say anything too incriminating. Fuck, what do people wear to concerts? How was she supposed to pick out an outfit when she was too busy panicking about this boy in her house? "Just take Kenny downstairs, I'll be ready in a minute!"

"Oh, Kenny didn't want to be a bother so he just went back outside. He said he'd be waiting in his car for you, and that you can just text him if you're not up to going out tonight! He's a polite boy, isn't he? He always asks me how my day's going whenever I need to grab something from Hattie's."

Wendy gave a sigh of relief as she finished putting on the clothes she'd fished out of her closet, hopping on one leg as she pulled on a pair of black jeans. Okay, that may have been an annoying stunt Kenny had pulled, but at least the kid wasn't a total asshole. After lacing up her Docs, Wendy grabbed her phone from her desk and opened her bedroom door to find her mother still waiting outside.

"Oh, Wendy, there you are," she started before pausing abruptly at the sight of her daughter’s outfit. In her haste to find something concert-appropriate, Wendy had pulled from her closet a ratty denim jacket from the last time she'd gone through a Wendell phase in high school. Underneath, she wore a t-shirt she'd paid way too much for at a Paramore concert in the ninth grade. Considering they were heading to a Kerplunk concert, she'd figured it'd fit right in. Her hair, an unwashed mess, was still pushed to one side of her head, leaving her undercut completely exposed.

"Sweetheart," her mom began again, "I don't think I've ever disapproved of the way you dress, but... are you sure that's the appropriate attire for volunteering at senior bingo night? It's a bunch of old folks in the church basement, not a rock concert..."

Thaaaaat jerk. Wendy walked past her mom and headed towards the stairs. "Well, it gets warm down there; I'll probably lose the jacket."

"And are you going to do anything about your hair?" Her mother called after her as she began to descend the stairs.

"Nope."

* * *

Kenny grinned at Wendy as she climbed into his passenger seat. "Sup buzzcut!"

"You are such a shit head."

"Oh come on," Kenny said as he took the car out of park. "I waited like half an hour without hearing from you so I decided to see what was up. Why weren't you answering my texts?"

"Cause I fell asleep dude, chill."

"Rough time on my couch last night?"

"I'm not even sure when the last time I got a proper night's sleep was, honestly."

"Sounds like someone had a busy first week of school.”

"Ha, I actually can't remember. The last couple days are a total blur; my brain must've checked out because I have like, zero memory of anything that happened before I sold that eighth to Jimmy Valmer."

"Eh, I wouldn't sweat it. I actually can't remember like, huge swaths of my childhood for some reason. In fact, there's a whole like, three-month period from when I was eleven where I can't remember anything that doesn't have to do with Eric Cartman."

"Sounds like someone was a little bi-curious."

"Yeah because he'd obviously be my first choice. Clyde was pretty cute before he lost all that baby fat, though. I mean, now that I think about it."

"Shame you never made a move, considering that thing he had for blondes."

"Well who could compete with Bebe’s rack..."

* * *

After a twenty-minute drive, Kenny pulled into a space in the distant corner of South Park Lanes' parking lot and killed the engine. He undid his seatbelt and began to rustle around in his parka.

"One more thing," he turned to Wendy before finally pulling a joint from one of his pockets. "Before we go in?" Wendy was already over this boy's talent for making drugs seemingly materialize out of thin air.

"Shouldn't we save it for in there?" she asked, gesturing over her shoulder towards the venue. "Isn't there some drug dealer rule about not getting high on your own supply, or something."

But Kenny was already lighting the joint. "What? Oh, relax. We're not even selling weed tonight."

"What? Then why are we here? Why'd we go to the locker earlier?"

Coughing out his first hit, Kenny reached into an inside pocket of his parka and tossed a little plastic bag with two small pills inside right into Wendy's lap.

Wendy recoiled as the bag dropped into her lap. "Oh my god, those are drugs! Like real drugs! You want me to sell real drugs??"

"No," Kenny held out the joint for her, "You want to sell real drugs! I can't seem to remember being the one who came up with this arrangement."

"I thought you just sold pot to dopey teenagers!" she replied, after taking a hit. Wendy picked up the bag after handing Kenny his joint back and looked inside. "I didn't know you sold...! You sold.... You sold... Ugh, what is this anyway?"

"Ecstasy."

"Why didn't you tell me you sold ecstasy! What else do you sell!"

"I mean not too much," Kenny said as he passed her back the joint and started to count on his fingers. "Weed, ecstasy, molly, cough syrup, uh, 'scripts, 'psychedelics' when I get them every now and then."

"That's kind of a lotta stuff, dude.”

"Yeah but I mean, it’s not like I’m selling heroin or cooking meth or anything. That’s where things get dicey."

“What do you mean?”

Kenny took the joint back from Wendy and took a hit. "Well, it's like you said, y'know? What I do, or what we do, I suppose, is deal with uh, dopey teenagers, and twenty-something stoners, and thirty-year old burn outs who can't get out of their parents' houses. Those are the kinds of people who smoke weed, who drink cough syrup, who take ecstasy when they head out to a show on the weekend.

"But when you start selling harder stuff, the people you gotta deal with are like, way different. I mean, nobody's gonna kill each other over a dimebag, but you wind up in the wrong crack house looking to make a deal and you can be in for some serious shit."

Wendy swallowed. Then she took a hit.

"Heroin's bad, but meth is the really dangerous one. You can get really fucked up selling meth. It’s not just like, tweakers with knives either; you know how popular meth is up in North Park? With all those biker gangs that take over the bars at night. You go into a party to sell an eighth, maybe a drunk girl pukes on your shoes. You go into the wrong bar trying to sell meth and you get your arm broken."

"What about coke?" Wendy asked as Kenny passed her the joint.

"What?"

"Do you sell cocaine? You didn't mention it."

"I sold coke, once."

"One time?"

"Yeah, just once."

"Why just once?"

"It was kinda weird..."

"What happened?"

"Well I dunno, y'know? It was like, a year ago. I had wound up with some and I actually turned out to be visiting Token at school that weekend."

"You visited Yale!?"

"Let me tell the story. So I'm visiting Token, staying in his frat house, and he takes me to some parties, some like weird shit okay? Like these Ivy League kids party hard, and there's some stuff that I don't even wanna talk about. But of course, possessing the talents that I do, I was able to slowly unload my supply over the course of the night, to various interested parties, none of whom I shall name in the off-chance that one of them ends up being president someday."

"And that's why it was so weird? The parties that you won't even talk about."

"Well, no; the real weird part was when one guy from the first house we went to found me four hours later desperately in search of more blow."

"Oh boy."

"So I was doing who knows what at this last party, probably trying to get two coeds to tell me their dorm number or something. I was on so much stuff by that point that I can barely remember. But what I do remember is this guy, pulling me into a hallway and telling me that he needed another score, which you know, I didn't have at this point."

"Ohhhh boy."

"So he grabs me by my shirt and pulls me in close and I think this guy is ready to beat my ass, to rifle through my corpse's jacket and find the last of the blow that he was sure I was hiding from him."

"Well did he fuck you up?"

"No. He glanced down both ends of the hallway, and then he looked at me really nervous all of a sudden and then he said... 'I'll blow you for a bump.'"

"Jesus Christ."

"Cocaine's a hell of a drug."

Kenny took another hit from the joint they'd been passing back and forth.

"So what did you tell him?"

"What do you THINK I told him Wendy!"

"Right, right," the girl snickered.

"...So did he give good head?"

"Shut up."

"I'll blow you for a bump," she sneered at him. "Is that story even true?"

"Look Testaburger, I don't know what kind of drug dealer you're going to be, but this one doesn't trade bumps for blowies. I'll let you choose how you wanna play that game for yourself."

"How ever will I decide on my own."

"Guess we'll have to see if anybody offers to suck your dick for a bag of E tonight."

"Oh my god," Wendy moaned, "I'm selling ecstasy at a concert in South Park." She clenched her eyes shut tight. "What am I doing?"

She opened her eyes to see Kenny holding the joint out to her again.

"What you're not doing is helping me finish this, which you should be. The show's gonna start soon, c'mon we need to business smoke."

Wendy took the joint and inhaled a long hit, never breaking eye contact with Kenny as she reduced the remains to ash. Her eyes narrowed at the boy as she filled her lungs and dropped the tip into a travel mug sitting in the cup holder between them. "Let's do it," she spoke through smoke, getting out of the car and leaving Kenny to watch her go.

* * *

"I don't think I see a single empty parking space," Wendy observed as the two made their way across the parking lot to the venue."

"Apparently it's a sold-out show."

"Lemme guess, someone traded you a pair of tickets for an eighth or something?"

"Or something," Kenny winked as the two got into the line that was slowly making its way towards the front doors. "Anyways, listen, you're gonna be cool in here right? This is technically your first job and it's not exactly the ideal environment for a learning experience, but I figure a trial by fire might not be such a bad thing for you."

"Your confidence means a lot," Wendy sneered at him as she pulled out the fake ID she'd gotten in New York so the guy working the door could loop a brightly colored paper wristband around her wrist. Kenny did the same and followed the girl into the venue.

The sight inside South Park Lanes was unlike anything Wendy had seen before. The place was packed to the brim with teenage scene kids, all crowded towards the stage that had been set up in the middle of the cleared bowling lanes. The crowd bobbed along to the sound of an old Ramones song playing over the venue's PA as the teens watched the opening band begin to tune up their instruments onstage.

"Jeez," Wendy said as Kenny walked up next to her. "I had no idea there was still this big of a market for tween wave. Are any of these kids even tweens?"

"I don't think I see too many. Apparently tween wave is undergoing a bit of a revival now, though. Emo kids have totally co-opted the genre and even people our age apparently go to shows. Must be nostalgic or something.”

Wendy looked over to the venue's bar to see that it was indeed crowded with twenty-somethings, as well as what even appeared to be a few older patrons. "Since when were you an expert on tween wave?" she asked Kenny.

"I talk to teenagers like all the time dude."

"Right, when you're selling them drugs."

"Exactly. Speaking of which: don't get distracted, we're here to work. You still have the stuff I gave you, yeah?" As they'd crossed the parking lot, Kenny had passed her about a dozen small bags, each of which contained two doses of ecstasy.

"No, I took it all while we were waiting on line. Feels awesome."

"Can you stop giving me shit for like five minutes so I can actually tell you how to sell this E."

"Yes, yes, I'm sorry."

"Alright so this is easy, right? You know how we got these wristbands at the door? If you're underage, you don't get one; instead, they sharpie an X on the back of your hand, so the bar knows you can’t buy booze. You’re gonna be looking for those kids; considering it’s basically the whole audience, it should be like shooting fish in a barrel. Once you pick a potential customer, all you gotta do is go up to them and be like, 'hey, I noticed you have an X. I’ve got a wristband, wanna see it?” This kinda crowd will know what you're talking about, but every now and then you might get some puzzled looks or something. If you think you can actually negotiate a sale there, feel free; but there's like no shortage of people who are probably looking to buy here, so I wouldn't stress that too much."

"Hey, I noticed you have an X,” Wendy mimicked. "I’ve got a wristband, you wanna see it? Easy. Okay, so what about people who already have wristbands?" she asked, gesturing towards the older crowd that had formed around the bar.

"You can leave those to me, it's usually a little harder to find a sale. The kids'll be easy. Just do it exactly like I said, and most importantly: stay cool and be careful. The Lanes has a few security guards that usually move through the crowds and check shit out every now and then. If you see one of them while you're in the middle of the sale, stop what you're doing and see if you can move things into the bathroom."

"Are you serious."

"Serial, even. I've never gotten busted selling at the Lanes before and I'm not about to just because my new partner makes a rookie mistake."

"Alright, alright, I'll be careful."

"Okay!" Kenny raised his voice as the opening act began amping up for their first song. "It looks like this first band is about to go on! The easiest time to sell shit is between songs, so here's hoping the frontman likes to talk! Now let's split up and meet back up by the bar when their set's over!"

"Got it!" Wendy yelled back with resolve.

"Don't let me down, Testaburger!" she could hear the boy shout to her as he disappeared into the crowd surrounding the bar. Turning toward the stage, Wendy made her way into the audience.

* * *

Wendy made her way through the crowd of scene kids as the opening act launched into their first song. The crowd began to move and sway as one as the audience started dancing, pushing Wendy back and forth amidst the sea of teens. Once she'd adapted to the chaos, Wendy began surveying the crowd, relieved to see that none of the kids in her vicinity seemed to be wearing a wristband. Now it was just a matter of choosing her first customer and waiting for the song to end.

Looking around the audience, Wendy spotted two girls who seemed to be just a few years younger than herself, both with glowing plastic bands around their neck and arms. Another quick glance was all Wendy needed to see that they they both had X’s on the back of their hands. Perfect. Girls with glow sticks and shit usually did ecstasy, right? Oh well, she supposed she'd find out as she made her way through the crowd and the band finished playing their first song.

Okay, Wendy said to herself as the band's singer started to banter with the audience. Just remember what Kenny said. Be cool. You can do this, it'll be fine. Hey, I noticed you have an X. I’ve got a wristband, wanna see it? God, she couldn’t tell if the joint she’d smoked in the car was calming her nerves or making her paranoid. Regardless, she doubted this was something she could actually do sober. Hey, I noticed you have an X. I’ve got a wristband, wanna see it? Fuck, there wasn’t any security around was there? She didn’t think she’d seen any, but… ugh, focus. I noticed you have an X. I’ve got a wristband, wanna see it? Hey, I noticed you have an X.”

"Uh, can we help you?”

Oh shit, one of the girls had said something to her. When had she reached them? How long had she just been standing there in front of them, probably staring at them and looking like a crazy person? Jesus Christ, stop talking to yourself and say something!

"Uh! Hey! I don’t have a wristband, can I see your X?"

What. The. Fuck. What had she just said? That was not what she was supposed to say. Why the fuck did she say that. God dammit. Fuck.

One of the girls side-eyed the other nervously. "Uh, do you know what she's talking about?" she asked her friend.

The other girl rolled her eyes. "She's looking for E, it's like a 'drug code' or whatever. We don't have any," she told Wendy. "There's usually a guy who sells them at these shows, though; he always wears this orange jacket. We're actually looking for him, soooo..."

Wendy hoped she wasn't grinning like a lunatic. "Because you're trying to buyyyy...?"

"Duh."

"What the fuck, don't tell her that! She could be a narc!"

"Oh my God, this isn't 21 fucking Jump Street, Liz."

"You don't think cops actually fucking do that?"

"Yeah, I'm so fucking sure our bumfuck town's excuse for a police force is secretly training an elite team of undercover cops who can pass for teenagers."

"You're honestly such a fucking-"

"I can sell you E!"

The two girls stopped bickering and turned their attention back to Wendy.

Approximately ninety seconds later, she'd completed her first real drug deal. Maybe a bit of a rocky start, but... not too shabby, Testaburger.

* * *

"Uh, beers, please, two," Kenny held up two fingers as he took a seat at the bowling alley bar. Fishing the wad of cash he'd recently acquired out of his coat pocket, he pulled out enough bills to pay for the drinks and put them down on the bar in front of him; only for someone behind him to reach around and drop a large stack of cash right on top.

"Sup," Wendy said as he turned to face her. "Can I buy you a drink?"

"Dude." Kenny turned back to the bar and picked up the cash in a hurry, hoping that no one else had seen the suspiciously large sum of money Wendy had dropped in front of him. He started discretely leafing through the bills. "Oh man, did you sell all of it?"

Wendy laughed. “Of course." Of course. "Did you get rid of everything you had?"

"Yeah, a few people at the bar weren't buying but I unloaded the rest of what I had on a few kids in the bathroom." Noticing that the beers he'd ordered had arrived, Kenny picked up the two bottles and handed one to Wendy before raising his own for a toast.

"These are still on you, right?"

Wendy clinked her bottle against Kenny's. "Ha, why not. I think this is the best I've felt in weeks."

Kenny grinned at her, deciding to pop the question that had been lurking in the back of his mind all night. "Are you interested in feeling even better?"

"What, do you have another joint?"

"Not exactly..."

It took Wendy a second to realize what the boy was implying.

"You didn't sell all your E."

"I have one bag left."

"Which is two pills."

"Yeah."

Kenny and Wendy both took long swigs of beer, awkwardly avoiding each other's gaze.

"Ugh okay let's do it." The words rushed out of Wendy's mouth, as if she was worried that they wouldn't get out if she hadn't expelled them so forcefully.

"For real?"

"Yes yes yes gimme one before I change my mind."

Kenny scrambled to get the plastic bag open, tearing into it and handing it to Wendy. She looked at him and he looked back at her as they both popped the pills into their mouths and swallowed them with a chug of beer.

"I cannot fucking believe I just did that."

"I can't fucking believe you just did that either."

"I'm just fulla surprises, huh?" Wendy laughed nervously. "So when should we start feeling this?"

"It shouldn't be too long," Kenny answered as the two leaned back against the bar. "You'll know when it kicks in, trust me."

"Well, how?"

"I dunno. You'll probably wanna dance."

Wendy snorted. "Oh please. That's so dumb."

"Hey dude, I don't make the rules."

Fifteen minutes later, Kerplunk took to the stage. Kenny still wasn't feeling the effects of the pill he'd taken, but looking over at Wendy, he could tell that the girl seemed a little more jittery than usual. Maybe it was just post-drug deal adrenaline, but Kenny was pretty sure that the girl was about to experience being high on ecstasy for the first time. Waiting for his own dose to kick in, Kenny was just glad he was able to be there for it.

"Hey everybody," Kerplunk's lead singer spoke into the microphone, his mouth just a little too close. "We're Kerplunk..." – cue a whole crowd of scene kids going absolutely ape-shit – "and it's great to be back here in South Park, Colorado." More cheers. "This first song's about getting high."

Kenny and Wendy looked at each other.

"ONE TWO THREE FOUR!" the band's drummer shouted before Kerplunk tore into the opening song of their set, which Kenny vaguely remembered liking in the sixth grade.

"Ya know, I gotta be honest with you for a second!" Wendy shouted over the music.

"What's that!"

"I fucking loved this song when I was a kid!"

Kenny laughed. "Oh really!"

"Yeah this was my jam! Do you wanna dance? I wanna dance!"

Ha. "I thought you said that sounded dumb!"

"Yeah dude! When I wasn't high on ecstasy! Right now dancing to a shitty tween wave band I liked when I was 12 years old sounds like it would make me happier than I've ever been in my entire life! Although I kind of already am! I'm gonna go dance, come with me!"

With that, Wendy turned around and ran into the crowd of dancing teenagers. After a moment's pause, Kenny put his beer down on the bar behind him and chased after her.

The crowd that had formed around the stage in the middle of the bowling alley had descended into utter chaos. Sweaty bodies pushed against each other as the crowd moved like a wave, rocking back and forth to the fast tempo of the band's music. Kenny didn't catch up with Wendy until she'd managed to make her way into the center of the crowd, swaying and jumping and dancing along with everyone else in the audience. Kenny was just about to reach her when the band swiftly transitioned into their second song and the audience swallowed her back up.

The smile Kenny had seen on the girl's face before she disappeared back into the crowd was all the reason he needed to go in after her.

Kenny practically had to fight his way through the audience, guided only by a vague idea of where Wendy had gone. But then the crowd shifted again and there she was. As happy and as full of life as he'd ever seen her. The band's song soared to a different key and the bodies around them pushed them towards each other. Kenny felt like a star was exploding inside of him as their bodies met.

Wendy gripped onto Kenny's parka and pulled him in closer as their bodies moved back and forth with the crowd. "I was afraid I lost you!"

"I know!" was all he could think to yell back.

Wendy laughed, like she knew what a difficult time he was having forming words, or thoughts, or focusing on anything but the girl who was so close to him, or even believing he was there, or

Wendy took advantage of Kenny's momentary lapse in presence to tug the hood of his parka over his head and pull his face in closer to her own, until they were only inches apart.

"You always wear this thing!" she shouted in his face, giggling as if it had never occurred to her before.

"It makes me feel safe!" he shouted back. He had never actually told anyone that, but in that moment he felt like sharing everything with her.

Wendy still hadn't let go of his hood. "I like that! Can I try it on!"

"What!"

Before Kenny could say anything else Wendy had somehow managed to tug off his parka and quickly donned it herself, pulling it on over her denim jacket. It was about two sizes too big for her, but she seemed overjoyed to be wearing it. Kenny watched as his coat's hood bounced on and off of Wendy's head as they danced close together, his parka's sleeves waving around, too long for the girl wearing it. The band played song after song and Kenny felt electricity run through his body every time he and Wendy touched.

Wendy danced for so long without stopping that by the time Kerplunk finally decided to retune their instruments in between songs, she looked like she was ready to fall over. "This is fucking great!" she yelled at him regardless. "I'm so thirsty though! I'm gonna go get some water!"

"I'll come with!" Kenny shouted, but she was already gone; and before Kenny could follow her, he felt a hand grip him by the shoulder. Turning around, he saw a large man dressed in all black, a security badge pinned to his shirt. His other hand held someone else by the shoulder: a teenage boy with a look on his face that said "I just got busted for doing ecstasy and they made me tell them where I got it."

Fuck.

* * *

Wendy couldn't believe how good she felt as she pushed through the crowd back towards the bar. Literally the only thing wrong with her life was that she didn't currently have a bottle of water. All of her other problems had simply disappeared. Although, now that she noticed it, so had Kenny. Wendy turned around just in time to catch a glimpse of him on the other side of the crowd, being pulled behind a door at the side of the stage by what was clearly a security guard.

Fuck.

Wendy's mind began racing at a million miles per second. What was she going to do? Kenny had gotten caught. Oh god, what if it was her fault? What if he gave her up? No, he wouldn't do that. Fuck, fuck, fuck, what was she going to do? She couldn't just leave him. He could be in some serious trouble. Ugh but how could she possibly get him out of this? Think girl, think. God, this would probably be so much easier if she wasn't high on ecstasy. Fuck. Shit. What was she going to do? What was she going to do?

Then it came to her.

Wendy dug into the pockets of Kenny's parka to find the cash he'd stored inside. Running up to the bar, she waved a few dollars in the air.

"I need a beer! I need a beer!" she shouted.

Fortunately, she was able to get the attention of one of the girls working behind the bar. "What kind!" she yelled at Wendy over the band.

"It doesn't even matter! Just, just, fast!"

Wendy was in too much of a hurry to even notice what brand of beer she'd been handed. Not that it mattered anyway; as soon as it was in her hand, she dashed over to the darkest corner of the venue she could find. While everyone else in the place was watching the band, Wendy shut her eyes, raised the bottle over her head, and began to pour the beer all over herself.

"Uuggggghhhh..." she cringed as she felt it wet her already dirty hair. Wendy brought her hands to her face and began rubbing her eyes until they were red and puffy. She pulled her phone out of her denim jacket and checked her appearance in the front-facing camera. She was a total mess – her face so wet and her eyes so red that she could have been crying. She knew she must have reeked of booze as well. Okay. Perfect.

Wendy turned her attention back to the door at the side of the stage just in time to see the security guard reemerge. This was her chance. Navigating around the audience, she made her way in his direction as quickly as she could. As she approached, she screwed her face up and fell into him, clutching his shirt as if to keep herself up.

"Oh my god!" She pretended to cry. "I'm sorry! Wait wait! Do you work here?? Can you help me?? I can't find my friends and I lost my phone and I've had so much to drink, I can't find them, I don't know what to do!"

Wendy clutched the security guard's shirt and pretended to sob into it, trying to summon as many real tears as she could. She looked up at the large man, hoping he could see how wet her face was, only to be met by a glare that said "great, this is exactly what I need tonight."

"Okay, okay," he said, politely yet begrudgingly shoving her away from him. "We have a phone in the back, you can use it to call someone."

"Oh my god thank you so much," Wendy continued to cry at him. "Can you take me to it now I wanna go home so bad please I just wanna go home please please please."

The guard sighed. "Yeah, okay, come on."

* * *

Kenny sat in the back room the security guard had dragged him into, a pair of handcuffs linking his wrist to the table. His heart felt like it was going to beat out of his chest. The only thing he could possibly hope might save him was the fact that he didn't have the cash. Without that, what could they prove, right? Good thing Wendy had taken his parka.

God, Wendy. At least they hadn't gotten her. That was what he was most thankful for. If Kenny had gotten Wendy busted for dealing drugs, whether it was her first deal or her hundredth, he could never forgive himself. He breathed a sigh of relief as he took solace in the fact that she was safe.

Unfortunately, that was when the door opened and the security guard who'd roughed him up brought Wendy into the room. Kenny's stomach dropped.

But to Kenny's surprise, all the guard did was point Wendy towards a desk in the corner of the room. "Phone's over there, you can use it to call your friends. Don't say anything to this one, though" the security guard told her before turning back to Kenny. "We've been trying to find who's been selling through this place for months now."

Wait, what was going on? Kenny’s eyes darted to try and make contact with Wendy's as the girl walked towards the phone in the corner of the room, but she didn’t look at him. After the guard had turned his attention back to Kenny, however, Wendy quietly stopped walking towards the phone and began creeping back to the guard. Wide eyed, she bit her bottom lip as she tip-toed up behind his back.

"Honestly, you should be ashamed of yourself," the guard sneered at Kenny. "Selling drugs to teenagers at a bowling alley? Do you have any idea how fucking pathet-"

Kenny recoiled as Wendy smashed a beer bottle over the security guard's head. Holy shit, she must have had it concealed up his parka's sleeve. It shattered into tiny pieces as the guard groaned and fell forward, landing on the ground with a thud. His body was still.

Kenny and Wendy stared at each other in shock.

"Get his keys, get his keys!" Kenny hissed at her after a few moments of silence.

"Right! Right!" Wendy ducked down and started to unfasten the guard's keys from his belt. "Oh thank fucking god he's still breathing."

"I'm glad you didn't murder a security guard but we really need to go!"

"I'm going as fast as I can!" Wendy fumbled with the keys, trying to find the one that fit into the lock to Kenny's handcuffs. Finally finding it, she slipped it inside and freed the boy's hand.

"Okay! Kenny exclaimed as he shot up from his chair, rubbing his wrist. “Okay we need to get out of here like now. What are you doing?"

Wendy had taken the handcuffs and used them to lock the unconscious security guard to the table. Taking the walkie-talkie from his belt, she threw it into the far corner of the room, along with the keys to the handcuffs.

"Okay! Now we can go!" Taking Kenny's hand, Wendy pulled him through the door and back out into the bowling alley. They ran so fast that it was only moments before they were back outside, making a beeline for Kenny's car. Once they reached it, they climbed inside and sped out of the parking lot. They were both silent, still too shaken by what had felt like a near-death experience to even utter a single word.

"So how bad is this," Wendy finally spoke, once her heart had finally stopped racing.

"Not too bad," Kenny tried to reassure her, or himself. He couldn't tell which. "Totally not too bad. It'll be fine. They didn't get my ID. I just can't sell at the lanes anymore."

"You mean _we_ can't sell at the lanes anymore. I kinda shattered a bottle over a security guard's head tonight."

"Which was one of the raddest things I've ever seen by the way. Why do you smell like beer though?"

Wendy slid back in her seat. "I’ll tell you in the morning, dude," she yawned. "Right now I am like, crashing. Can I rest my head on your shoulder in like, a totally platonic way."

Kenny laughed. "Of course."

“Ugh, you rock.”

And so Kenny found himself driving through South Park in silence, Wendy still wrapped in his parka, falling asleep with her head leaning against his shoulder for the second night in a row. Although it felt like things were a little different now, he thought as he glanced over at the buzzed portion of the girl's head.

"Hey," he whispered to her once he was sure she'd fallen asleep. "Y'know... I was Mysterion."

After a few moments of silence, Wendy whispered back.

"I know."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alright everyone, we're fast approaching the end of the first half of the fic, so stayed tuned for the first season finale of Pink Lemonade, coming up next!!


	8. Between Bodies

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Wendy and Kenny fuck with each other. Season 1 Finale.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh shit, looks like we're back at it again!! Welcome to the first season finale of Pink Lemonade! Let's get to it!!

"Trick or treat! O-oh, hey Wendy!"

Butters stood in the doorway of Kenny's apartment, dressed in a blue cape and a shiny chrome helmet, a bowl of candy clenched in his outstretched hands.

"Ah, Professor Chaos," Wendy greeted him with a sly grin. "We meet again."

The boy laughed nervously. "Awww well, I'm not the real Professor Chaos! I don't think he's been seen since Mysterion defeated him in that climactic battle on top of Tweak Bros. back when we were in the eighth grade!"

"Well I wouldn't be surprised if he were still lurking around somewhere," Wendy replied as she stepped inside. "Speaking of Mysterion, where's Kenny?"

Butters gave Wendy a puzzled look before both of them turned to see Batman's young sidekick Robin emerge from Kenny's room, a black domino mask obscuring his true identity.

"Okay be honest with me," Kenny said as he turned around to show them the backside of his costume. "Do these tights make my ass look great or what?"

Wendy winked through her own domino mask and pointed a finger gun at the boy. "100 emoji. Lookin' good, dude."

"You don't look too bad yourself," Kenny told her as he fastened a yellow cape around his neck. "Purple always has been your color."

"Batgirl and Robin were a good choice." Wendy admitted, leaning against the counter separating the apartment from its living room. She hadn’t exactly been enthusiastic when Kenny had pitched her the idea, but it's not like she'd bothered to come up with any alternatives. At least she'd been able to find a surprisingly decent Batgirl costume online.

Kenny started lacing up his pair of red chucks to complete the costume. "I still think you should've gone with the cowl, though."

"No way, it felt like I was wearing some kinda fetish gear or something. The domino mask and ears are totally enough," Wendy said, pointing to the two bat ears poking out of the headband that hid among her dark hair.

Kenny slung his backpack over his shoulder. "Whatever you say, Babs."

"Don't call me that."

**Chapter 8: "Between Bodies"**

Kenny sat in the passenger seat of Wendy's Prius as the girl drove towards Middle Park. "So how many parties did you say we're hitting tonight?"

"Seven, which is approximately like, nine guys I had to flirt with to get these addresses."

"You're doing the lord's work, dude. How about you brief me again on this operation you've put together? From the top, please; hearing you strategize just... does things to me."

Kenny was teasing the girl, but Wendy had legitimately impressed him. He'd never even tried to put together a plan as ambitious as the one she'd laid out for him two weeks ago.

Wendy rolled her eyes at the boy's last comment. "Like I told you, it's simple. The South Park party scene is always kinda dead on Halloween, right? Y’know, since we don't have a lot of college kids and the high schoolers prefer to go around causing mischief. Middle Park is where all the parties are, because a lot of the kids who go to MPCC go in on houses together to be close to campus. Most of the houses are around the same area, which means we can hit one after the other. Basically, we're gonna clean up."

"Wendy Testaburger, you're my hero."

"Who knew that the student would surpass the master so quickly, right."

"Ha, don't get ahead of yourself. You've still got a lot to learn, my young padawan."

"You can admit that I'm a better drug dealer than you, dude."

"God, I've created a monster."

"Well, it is Halloween."

* * *

"I thought you said you knew where this place was," Kenny grumbled as the two drove slowly through the suburbs of Middle Park, trying to make out house numbers through the darkness.

"I said I know the address, chill. Are you even helping me look?"

Kenny leaned his head out the window. "Are you sure you got the right one?"

"1527 and 1/2, Hooper ave."

"Yeah, who has a house with a half at the end of its number?"

"Michael Ryan?" Wendy responded as she finally spotted the house. "He's in my statistics class."

"He's got two first names," Kenny observed as he got out of the car. "Nice place, though."

Backpacks over their shoulders, Batgirl and Robin made their way up to the house.

"It's good for parties, since it's a little more hidden than some of the other houses around here. I've sold at this place a few times now."

"Sounds like you run this town, huh?"

"Let's just say you're lucky I'm letting you deal in my territory, McCormick."

"Hey, don't forget who taught you everything you know."

"You mean everything you know."

"Oh, do I? Who says I don't still have a few trade secrets I've yet to bestow upon you?"

"Eh, I'm sure I could get 'em outta you somehow." God, Wendy thought. Had she actually just said that? She had to start watching herself around Kenny; his lame sense of humor was frighteningly contagious. She was certainly enjoying the jabs they'd been exchanging tonight, though – even more so than when they usually went on deals together. Maybe it was the mischievous nature of the holiday. Or maybe Kenny actually did look pretty good in that Robin costume. Hm.

"You know," Kenny said to her. "You're gonna regret being this cocky when I outsell you on your own turf tonight."

Wendy stopped walking. "Is that a challenge?" She had expected Kenny to turn and face her, but he just kept walking. Maybe if she just stood there he'd realize that he was supposed to turn around. Ugh but he was still going. Wendy finally caved and hustled after him. Jerk.

"I bet you I sell more than you do tonight!" She said as she caught up to him.

Finally he stopped. "You really think you can, huh."

"I'm the best there is at everything I do."

"Yeah, I think I had a reminder of that for like a week after the first time we hung out."

Wendy blushed but didn't relent. "You just don't want to do it because you know I'll beat you."

"I never said I don’t want to do it. But what's in it for me?"

Wendy thought for a second before realizing exactly how she could make this happen.

"The Future is Here, Now, Boys."

Kenny's eyes opened wide. Wendy thought she could even see his mouth drop open. "Seriously?"

"If you win, it's all yours."

Kenny was silent for a moment. "And if you win?"

"All you need to do is admit that I'm a better dealer than you."

Wendy could tell that Kenny was seriously considering his options.

"Okay, you're on."

"Yesssssss I am going to destroy you!"

Kenny extended his hand. "Whoever makes more tonight wins. Agreed?"

Wendy clasped Kenny's hand and flashed the boy a mischievous grin. "Agreed."

* * *

"So how do you wanna do this?" Kenny asked as the two walked up the front porch steps to the first house. Opening the door, they were met by a blast of loud music and the sight of fifty or so college kids, adorned in all sorts of Halloween costumes, socializing throughout the living room and kitchen.

"Let's split up and meet back here in half an hour," Wendy told him as they started to make their way into the crowd, "So I can embarrass you."

"Can't wait!" she heard Kenny shout over the music as they parted ways.

Wendy made her way into the kitchen, pouring herself a cup of punch from the bowl sitting on the corner. Turning around, she found herself face to face with the Joker; or at least a girl she thought she recognized through the character's white face paint.

"You wanna know how I got these scars?" the girl asked her. Sarah from sociology class.

"Oh man," Wendy greeted her friend. "That is like the worst Heather Ledger impersonation I've ever heard. What is up though! Are we seriously both wearing Batman costumes right now?"

"I thought I saw a blond Robin walking around too."

"Nice. So is anyone else here?"

"I saw Brian, Jared, and Laura. Randal's here too but he says he's not sure if he's gonna smoke."

Wendy rolled her eyes. "He fucking always says that. Cool though, round up whoever wants to come upstairs and meet me in the bathroom."

After sending the girl off, Wendy poured herself a second cup of punch before leaving the kitchen and making her way up the stairs. The house only had one bathroom, but it was spacious enough to accommodate five or six people – which was conveniently the same number of kids Wendy could usually count on to want to get stoned at these parties. She was just setting her things down on the sink counter before the group Sarah had gotten together entered the room behind her, closed the door, and crowded around close.

"Yooooo," Brian greeted her through the mummy bandages / toilet paper wrapped around his face. "Did you bring it?"

“Of course.” Unzipping her backpack, Wendy reached inside and pulled out what her circle of customers were always excited to see: a portable, glow-in-the-dark silicone bong.

Wendy smiled proudly. "The future is here, now, boys."

Wendy wouldn't admit it, but the bong had become something of a prized possession of hers. Not only was it easy to hide in her room or store in a backpack, but there wasn't a customer she'd dealt with yet that hadn't been taken in by its novelty. Something about the silicone just made each hit feel stronger, too; while weed didn't affect Wendy quite like it did back when she'd first started smoking, using the silicone bong was a surefire way to get herself blitzed every time.

But Wendy's favorite thing about the bong was how jealous it made Kenny. He'd fallen in love with it the first time she'd taken it over to his place, and the two had made dildo jokes all night. Kenny liked how you could never tell just how much smoke you were filling the chamber with. You either got a small pipe's worth or a full bong rip. The boy called these "mystery hits." It had actually been Kenny who'd come up with the bong's name, too. After his first hit, he rolled back onto the floor and proclaimed, "The future is here, now, boys." The phrase had stuck ever since.

The two had both agreed that the bong got you exactly as high as you deserved to be – although maybe that's just what they wanted to think, considering that it kinda got them totally blazed whenever they used it. Hence why Wendy had known that offering it as a prize would be the easiest way to get Kenny to compete with her.

"Where'd you get this thing again?" Jared asked.

"I found it online," Wendy answered as she poured a bit of punch into the bong and started to pack a tight bowl. "They don't make 'em anymore, though. See how the bottom of this thing's a suction cup?" She planted it next to the sink to show how it stuck firmly to the surface beside it. "Apparently the company that produced ‘em had to go out of business after someone tried doing a hit with it stuck to what they thought was a window, and ended up falling through some plate glass, or something."

Wendy pulled out her purple lighter and took a hit from the bong. She knew she'd have to stay sharp if she wanted to outsell Kenny, but it had become tradition for her to smoke with her regulars while drugs and money changed hands.

"Careful you don't set your bandages on fire," Wendy winked at Brian as she handed him the bong and lighter before returning her attention to the group. "Alright so who am I selling to? Randal, are you actually gonna buy something tonight or are you gonna pussy out on me again?"

* * *

After half an hour of sales, Kenny and Wendy met back up outside the party.

"So how'd you do?" Kenny asked, making sure to speak before the girl could greet him with any kind of snide remark.

"Eight sales," Wendy beamed. "All my regulars, plus another few kids I was able to find in the backyard. How 'bout you?"

"Geez, I'm actually impressed. I only sold to five kids... It's so not fair that you have regulars, though."

"I think it's a well-earned advantage, considering how much hard work I've put in to establish a clientele up here,” she said proudly. “I’ve been busting my ass for the last two months, dude.”

Kenny grumbled. “I guess that’s fair.”

"Well at least you're not a sore loser."

"Hey, don't get ahead of yourself. We'll see who's gloating when we get to the last party.”

* * *

By the time Kenny and Wendy finally reached the last party, they'd both smoked so much weed that they could barely keep track of how many deals they'd done. Unable to find a parking spot close to the final house, Wendy parked a few blocks away, and the two used the long walk to go over the score. After going through the night, house by house, it seemed like Wendy was leading by two deals.

"I am slaying you, dude."

"It's two deals, oh my god."

"Whatever. Hey, do you want a joint?"

"You've got a joint?"

"Yeah check this out!" Wendy popped open one of the pouches on her costume's yellow belt and pulled out a joint. "Bat joint!"

Kenny was thrilled. "Bat joint!" He took a hit after Wendy handed it to him and the two continued their walk towards the party, passing the joint back and forth.

"So is Craig seeing what kinda action he can scrounge up in South Park tonight?" Wendy asked. "I'm sure there must be at least one party going on."

"Nah, I gave Craig the night off. I think he mentioned that he and Tweak were gonna go over Thomas' place and watch scary movies or something."

"Gee, I wonder how that will end."

"That's what I said."

"What’s even like, going on there."

"I'm not totally sure, but it sounds like a trip. I actually managed to get some details out of Craig this one time we got really fucked up, and hoo-boy. It sounds like those kids have some... stamina."

"Yikes. I just dunno how Craig does it. Sounds exhausting, if you ask me."

"Well I'm sure he doesn't top every time."

"Ugh dude, that wasn't what I was talking about. I mean… Tweek and Thomas don't exactly strike me as low maintenance, you know?"

"I think you'd be surprised, Tweek's actually mellowed out a lot since we graduated."

"Wow, really?"

"No."

Wendy put out the remains of the joint as the two approached the last house.

"So, ready for your reign as South Park's most illustrious drug dealer to come to an end?" Wendy asked before they went inside.

"On the contrary, I'm not worried about losing that title in the least."

* * *

Kenny was extremely worried as he made his way through the last party. Although he was only behind by two sales, it felt like Wendy had been outperforming him all night. If she knew enough people at this party already, he was probably screwed; and he wasn't exactly looking forward to a car ride back home with Wendy Testaburger, the Greatest Drug Dealer in South Park.

He really wanted that silicone bong too, god dammit.

Kenny located the house's back porch and decided to see if he could find anyone smoking outside. Sure enough, there was a boy who looked to be about his age smoking a cigarette in the corner. He was wearing an imperial storm trooper uniform, it's helmet resting on the wooden railing he leaned against. Kenny fished a joint out of his backpack before heading over.

"Hey," he said to the storm trooper. "You got a light?"

"Oh, hey, sure," the other boy replied as he took out a white lighter and handed it to Kenny.

"Thanks." Kenny lit the joint and leaned against the railing in the opposite direction of the boy. He waited a few moments before offering the storm trooper a hit. "You want some of this?"

Realizing what he was being offered, the boy perked up. "Oh, totally! Yeah."

Kenny passed him the joint and he took a hit. "Nice," he said as he exhaled. He looked at the joint before handing it back to Kenny. "That's what I love about these MPCC parties, someone's always holding."

Kenny took another hit. "Really? I actually heard there wasn't a ton of weed out here."

"There wasn't, 'cause no one was selling any. But like, the last couple parties I've gone to around here, there's been this chick with an undercut who just like, hangs out and deals. I've bought from her twice now and she smoked me out both times too, she rules."

"Sounds like my dream girl."

"Oh dude she's mad cute, too. And she's got this like, rubber bong or something. Shit's dope. I was actually hoping to bump into her tonight, but I dunno if she's here; everyone's wearing costumes and shit."

Kenny took a long hit from the joint. "Actually, I think I saw a girl with an undercut while I was heading through the kitchen. I remember 'cause she was dressed as Batgirl, and well, ya know," he gestured to his own costume. "She's probably still inside."

"Oh word?" the Stormtrooper replied. "I'm gonna go check that out, thanks dude!" Taking his helmet, he fixed it over his head and made his way into the party.

Kenny leaned against the porch railing, smoking and staring out into the dark backyard. Going through it in his head, he didn’t really know why he'd given up the sale. Fuck it though, maybe Wendy deserved to win. Not only had she made a name for herself, but she'd even managed to establish the same kind of customer loyalty that Kenny enjoyed back in South Park. Wendy was Middle Park's drug dealer; and Kenny felt proud of her.

Although he still wasn't going to let her rub his face in it.

* * *

Finishing her final sale of the night, Wendy counted her cash and took out her phone to text Kenny. "Meet me on the back porch in five minutes for an ass kicking."

"Already there," he responded, with a photo of a half-finished joint.

"Enjoying a consolation prize?" Wendy asked smugly as she made her way onto the back porch.

"Something like that," the boy rolled his eyes at her. "But for real, I was just counting my cash and this was seriously like the best idea you've ever had. We gotta do more marathons like this; I cleared a grand tonight, dude."

The girl's stomach dropped. Did he say a grand? That didn’t make sense. Wendy had sold a lot over the course of the night. She needed to check again, but her last count had revealed that the twenty-something deals she'd made in the last few hours had earned her something around $800. Kenny must have been jacking up his prices or something, there’s no way he could have managed to surpass her lead by such a wide margin. Ugh, that was smart; but whatever, it didn’t necessarily mean he’d won.

"A grand, huh?" she asked cautiously. "So how many deals is that..."

Kenny hummed for a moment as he did some quick math in his head. "Twenty-two?"

Yes yes yes yes yes she did it she beat him! "I made twenty-six deals! I made more deals than you!"

Kenny took a drag from the joint. "Looks like you did."

"Alright so say it," Wendy told him excitedly as he passed her the joint. "C'mon dude!"

"Say what?"

"Say that I'm a better dealer than you! C'mon, I won the bet!"

Kenny scoffed at her. "Did you? How much money did you make tonight?"

"What does it matter, I made more deals than you did."

"Okay well that wasn't what we agreed we were betting on."

"What are you talking about."

"I said, 'whoever makes more tonight wins,' and then we shook on it. I thought it was obvious that I meant 'whoever makes more money.' I've been wondering why you've been telling me how many deals you've done all night."

"What. No. I thought you meant 'whoever makes more deals.' I meant whoever makes more deals."

"You don't 'make' drug deals, you 'do' them."

"Are you fucking kidding me dude!"

"I suppose that's an easy mistake to make, though. After all, you have only been doing this for two months."

"Shut up! You tricked me!"

"It honestly just seems like an honest mistake, honestly."

Wendy was clenching her fists. "No you asshole! You knew I'd outsell you so you planned this! I can't believe you! When you asked me how I did back at the first house I bet you were just waiting... just waiting to see if I said how much cash I'd made or how many people I’d sold to. That way you would know which one to say you meant after we were done. And you stayed quiet about it all night! While I! You! Ugh!"

"So I take it you didn't make as much money as I did tonight, huh."

"No I didn't make as much money as you did tonight!! What were you doing anyways, jacking up your prices? Throwing in free joints? Shit talking any other weed that's been getting sold around here? God dammit I should have known you would've pulled some shit like this!"

"Each time you accuse me of intentionally trying to deceive you somehow manages to hurt even more than the last."

"You are the worst, Kenny McCormick."

"Hey, like I said, this whole thing sounds like it’s just a big misunderstanding. I'll tell you what, okay? How about I just count myself lucky that I don't have to grovel at your feet or whatever, you keep the Future, and we call it even?"

Wendy was still staring daggers at the boy.

"I'll even admit that, in the right environment, you're more capable of negotiating a greater quantity of sales than I might be. On one of my off nights."

"I'm gonna be giving you shit about this for weeks, you know."

"I mean, if that's the price I have to pay, so be it. But hey, let's enjoy the rest of the night, yeah? It's Halloween.” He passed her the joint as he stepped past her towards the house. “You can finish that, I’m gonna go grab a drink."

Kenny disappeared back into the house, leaving Wendy to simmer in what was left of her slowly-diminishing rage. She took a long drag from the joint and began pacing around the porch. God damn that boy. The worst part was that Wendy didn't even know whether to feel angry or impressed – although if the familiar tension that Wendy had begun feeling as Kenny had turned the tables on her was what she thought it was, perhaps "impressed" wasn't the right word. Ugh. Maybe the dozen or so bong hits she'd taken over the last few hours were finally starting to catch up to her, but Wendy decided that if Kenny McCormick was going to screw her over, she was going to fuck him right back.

* * *

The devilish smirk that split Wendy's face only grew as she moved through the party and began turning the impulsive decision she'd just made into a plan. She could almost cackle just thinking about how Kenny was going to react to what she had in store for him.

Finally, she found him in the kitchen.

"Oh, hey," he greeted her. "I was just about to head back outside, what's up?"

"What? Nothing. Hey, come with me, I wanna show you something." Before Kenny could respond, she took his hand and set a brisk pace for the stairs, practically dragging the boy behind in her wake.

"Where are we going?" he tried to ask as she led him up the stairs and down the hallway, looking for an empty room.

"Shut up, you're gonna like it." Finally finding an unoccupied bedroom at the end of the hall, Wendy pushed Kenny inside and shut the door behind them, locking them into the empty room's darkness.

"Dude, I can barely see anything, why did you drag me up here?"

Wendy stepped close enough for Kenny to make out the mischievous look on her face through the dark. "So we could fuck."

"What!" Wendy didn't even mind that she couldn't see the look of surprise on the boy’s face. The shock in his voice had been delicious enough.

Wendy moved as close to him as she could, getting up on her toes and leaning her hands against his chest. "I said we should fuck."

Kenny tried to back up but Wendy followed. "Yeah, that's what I thought you said. I seem to remember you telling me that wasn't going to happen again, though."

Wendy shrugged. "It can happen one more time."

Finally managing to put some distance between him and the girl, Kenny made his way around her and started heading for the door. "No way, I'm not buying this. I'm on to you, Testaburger; you're mad that I tricked you and now you're trying to even the score or something."

Wendy got back in front of Kenny to block the door. "So you admit that you tricked me, huh?"

As her eyes began adjusting to the dark, Wendy could see just how cornered Kenny had become. This was going to be too easy. "Yeah..." he responded nervously. "So?"

"So don't you think I deserve a treat too?"

Wendy could practically hear him groan in frustration.

"C'moooon," she continued. "You know I beat you. Don't you think I deserve something for winning?"

"And this is what you want?"

"So what if it is? You said it yourself, your butt looks pretty good in that costume. I know you like the way I look in mine too; your tights don't exactly leave much to the imagination."

It was still too dark to tell, but Wendy was sure that one made Kenny blush.

"To be honest, though? I'm kinda sick of just looking." With that, Wendy brushed her hand down Kenny's body and ran it between his legs, being sure to slow her pace as she reached her destination. She was pleased to find that the boy was just as hard as she'd expected him to be.

"Yeah," she smirked up at him. "That's what I thought."

Wendy was having so much fun toying with Kenny that she was almost disappointed when he finally closed the gap between their faces and kissed her. Except not really, because she'd kinda wanted to kiss him all night. Whoops. She allowed herself to just enjoy the way his lips felt on hers before taking his face in her hands and withdrawing a few inches, just to look at him, her eyes finally adapting to the darkness of the room. After leaning back in to give him another small kiss, she drew her head back again. This time Kenny followed.

Wendy gasped as Kenny put his hands on her body, and she shuddered when he bit her bottom lip and tugged it between his teeth. Taking a few step backwards, he pulled her onto the bed behind them, lifting her until she was straddling him. Wendy ran her fingers into the boy's hair and started to grind into his lap as his hands began exploring her body.

"We gotta lose the costumes," she said, drawing her head back but keeping a firm grip on the boy's hair.

"We should keep the masks on, though."

"You're such a loser," Wendy smirked as Kenny began making quick work of her costume, peeling it off until she was clad in nothing but her black bra and matching panties. "But you're right."

Kenny stood up to remove the remains of his costume before climbing back onto the bed and crawling over to Wendy, until she was surrounded by his familiar warmth.

"I really like the way you taste like pot," she told him as his lips found hers again.

"Yeah?" Kenny asked as he began trailing his kisses lower.

"Yeah," Wendy panted as he made his way along her collarbones and down her breasts. She felt his tongue touch her skin as he dragged it along the confines of her lingerie. Wendy leaned back on her elbows and tilted her head to the side, looking over at the wall to hide the amused look on her face.

"You know, it opens in the front," she teased him. She felt Kenny pause against her chest for a moment and giggled as the boy’s hands hurried to unclasp her bra.

Wendy gasped as she felt Kenny’s warm lips press against her newly revealed flesh, and again when he took her right nipple in his mouth, sucking and flicking it with his tongue. She reached to grasp the back of the boy’s head again but she was too late; he was already making his way lower, kissing a trail down her tummy that went straight to the girl’s panties.

Kenny stared up at her with hungry eyes as he hooked his fingers into the black lace and pulled them down around her ankles, before kissing back up her inner thigh until his head was between her legs. Wendy grinned and bit her bottom lip, locking gazes with Kenny before he buried his face in her pussy, lapping up her wet sex as she collapsed back onto the bed in ecstasy.

Wendy looked down at Kenny, and he returned her gaze, his nose resting on the black strip of hair above her pussy. Feeling his tongue find her clit, she moaned and leaned her head back, closing her eyes and digging her fingers back into the blond’s hair. This time he was staying exactly where she wanted him. Kenny sucked her clit into his mouth as he slowly dipped his fingers into her cunt. His digits quickened their pace inside her as he began to finger fuck her hard, his tongue flicking and batting at the girl’s clit.

“Fuck Kenny, just like that,” she panted as the boy’s fingers slid in and out of her. Kenny released the girl’s clit from his mouth, sitting up and slowing his fingers’ motion within her before withdrawing them entirely. Wendy opened her eyes. “Why are you… AH!” the girl yelped as Kenny gripped her body and flipped her over, her face landing against the bed’s pillows as he yanked her hips and ass into the air. Attempting to turn her head, Wendy was just about to ask the boy what exactly he thought he was doing before she felt his tongue snake inside her.

"Oh, fuck," she moaned into one of the pillows she'd landed on. She'd never had a boy's tongue in her like this, not from this angle, not this deep. Kenny's hands gripped her ass and spread her wide as his tongue slid in and out of her. It was just about the best thing she'd ever felt until he withdrew his tongue and licked a path up higher.

"Hey!" Wendy exclaimed as she realized where he was headed. "Don't even THINK about oh my god"

Wendy's whole body trembled as the boy's tongue ran over her asshole. "Hoooolllllyyyy shit," she shuddered into the pillow as he gripped her ass harder, parting it and lapping down the center over and over again. "You… are… the… fucking… worst… god… damn…" Kenny finally worked his tongue inside her, before cupping her pussy and using a few of his fingers to fill it as well. Wendy couldn't even tell how many he'd put in. She was too busy fucking drooling into her pillow. She panted and swore and moaned as Kenny kept working her from behind, her gasps quickening in pace with the boy's tongue and digits until she found herself peaking and cumming with his fingers buried deep in her cunt and his mouth still on her asshole.

Wendy’s body was still shaking from her orgasm as Kenny withdrew his face from her ass, gripped her hips and dragged her back to meet his eagerly awaiting erection. Wendy moaned as she felt the boy press the tip of his hard cock to her entrance, still wet from Kenny’s mouth, before realizing that he was actually about to just put it in.

"Hey!" she yelped back at him over her shoulder. "No way, put something on! Just because I let you do... that... does not mean we're risking this!"

"Ugh but I... I..."

"But you what?” she asked. “Oh noooooo," she smirked at him as she realized. She rested her head on the pillow in front of her and arched her back, pushing her ass out until she could feel the boy's desperate cock pressed against her. "You don't have a condom?"

The noise Kenny made in response seriously sounded like he was about to cry.

“Ugh, I can't count on you for anything," Wendy pouted as she continued to grind back on Kenny’s dick. “Wellllll just go into my bat-belt, at least one of us came prepared.”

Still smirking, Wendy watched over her shoulder as Kenny practically fell out of bed in his scramble for their costumes. Digging out her belt from the small pile of clothes, he finally popped the left hatch open and retrieved the condom inside. “Bat-Condom...” he whispered as he held it in both hands, as if it were some sacred object.

“Hurrrrrry,” Wendy moaned at him, still resting face down on the bed with her ass in the air. Kenny did, tearing open the condom with haste as he knelt on the bed behind her.

"Hey,” he started as he rolled the condom over his cock. “Why did you have this?”

Wendy didn’t turn to answer him as she felt him grip her with one hand, the other guiding his cock to her pussy. “Why not?” she asked him. “A lot of girls make bad decisions on Halloween. I mean who knows, I could’ve met a reeaallly cute boy at one of these parties. Lucky for you that I AH!”

Wendy’s last taunt turned into a gasp as Kenny filled her from behind. She felt his hand on the back of her head and then she was face-down into the pillow again, moaning into it as Kenny held her down and fucked her from behind as hard as he could. Wendy gasped and swore in time with his thrusts. He’d put her in the perfect position to sink his cock into her as deep as possible, his balls slapping her clit every time he bucked into her. Fuck, he was so deep it hurt.

Wendy was finally able to catch her breath as Kenny's thrusts started to weaken. "Hey..." she panted back at him as he slowed to a stop and slouched over her. She wiggled her ass back into his groin. "Hey c'monnnnn..."

"Dude,” he gasped at her, “Give me a break here; I am doing like, all the work."

"Ugh, okay, I guess you're right. Hmmm..." Wendy propped herself up on her elbows and started moving her hips. With a little bit of momentum, she found that she could move herself up and down Kenny's cock, fucking herself on him as he remained upright and still. "How's that?" she asked, looking back at him.

Kenny gripped her hips to steady himself as she kept rocking back and forth into him. "Really... guh... really good."

"Good."

Once she'd practiced the motion, Wendy began to experiment. She moved her hips in circles and heard Kenny moan behind her in response. Leaning forward, she slid to the very tip of the boy's cock before leaning back and filling herself back up to the brim, earning a moan from both of them. Wendy only had to do that once more before Kenny pushed her back down into the bed and resumed screwing her into the mattress.

Kenny fucked her harder and harder until she couldn't take it anymore, her body exploding for a second time as she came again. Exhausted, she gave a final moan as Kenny continued to buck into her, his thrusts becoming more erratic until she felt him bury his cock in her one last time to finish. Totally spent, he collapsed onto the bed alongside her.

Wendy rolled over onto her back, still out of breath, her pants in time with Kenny's own. They both looked up at the ceiling. Neither said a word, but both understood that they were sharing the exact same moment as each other, the exact same feeling; and that felt pretty rad.

Finally, Kenny broke the silence. "Hey..." he panted.

"Do you wanna go to an anime convention with me this weekend?"

Wendy hit him with a pillow.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What's a season finale without some ass-eating, huh? I feel like I need to go to church now. Anyways, it sure feels good to be back where we started! Season two coming soon!!


	9. Hang With Me (interlude)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Wendy and Kenny get high for the holidays. Interlude.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey all, I know that I said season one's all wrapped up, but before we get to season two, I thought we could use a little interlude to slow things down and get our bearings. Part two isn't gonna pick up exactly where part one left us (the prologue already did that, remember??) so how about we take a quick peek into the interim and see how things are going? Seems like a good idea to me, so without further ado, allow me to welcome you to...
> 
> THE PINK LEMONADE HOLIDAY SPECIAL

"You did not get Craig Tucker a 'weed-themed sweater' for Christmas."

(Christmas)

"I swear to god," Kenny replied before taking a long hit from the pipe he'd pulled out of his glove compartment moments earlier.

"Well what does that even mean?" Wendy asked as he handed it to her. Her feet planted on the dashboard of the boy's car, she ducked her head down to light a hit for herself.

"Oh it's great. It's got this huge pot leaf covered in lights and ornaments and it says '420 Days of Christmas' on it."

"That's literally the worst thing I've ever heard."

"Does that mean I should return the one I got you?"

"Oh shut up. What did you get me?"

"It's in my trunk," he told her. "You want it now?"

"Nah, I can wait. I've got your present in my car too, we can trade after the party."

"Speaking of which," Kenny began before taking another hit. "Are you looking forward to seeing everyone again?”

Wendy sighed. "A bunch of my peers who essentially live out of state and get to do all the cool stuff I wish I could? Yeah, totally."

"I'm not exactly stoked either. I know Token throws these things every year but I've actually skipped like, the last three. Reeeaaally not interested in hearing about what everyone's getting for Christmas while my family can barely ever afford a tree."

"The holidays blow," Wendy deadpanned.

"Agreed," Kenny nodded as he passed the pipe back to her one more time. "You almost ready to head into this thing?"

"Ugh, almost," Wendy said as she finished off the bowl, holding her last hit in for as long as she could. "Okay, yeah," she finally exhaled. "That should do it."

* * *

Kenny locked his car and the two began the walk past the gates of the Black residence and up to Token's annual Christmas party, wiping their coats down with some of the dryer sheets Kenny had stored in one of his parka's inner pockets to rid their clothes of the stench of pot.

"So just refresh my memory," the boy began, "Why don't you wanna hang out together at this thing again? Something about you being embarrassed by being seen with the town's resident poor kid and drug dealer?"

"Ugh, please, I already feel like enough of an asshole. I told you, everyone asking me about school is going to make me uncomfortable enough without having to also explain why you and I are so chummy all of a sudden. I'll make it up to you, okay?"

"Don't worry," Kenny laughed. "It's cool, I get it. Like I said, these things aren't really my scene anyways. Craig and I'll probably cut out early to go throw rocks at trains."

"I really do not get you guys."

"It's our Christmas tradition!" Kenny said defensively as they reached Token's house.

Wendy walked up the steps to the front door, leaving Kenny behind in the driveway. "Whaaaaaatever. Just let me know when you're leaving and we can exchange gifts by my car.”

“Will do,” Kenny answered before pointing a finger gun at her. "See you on the other side." Wendy pointed back at the boy as she passed through the door and disappeared into the party.

After the girl had gone, Kenny leaned against Token's garage and fished a joint out of his pocket. Might as well kill some time, right? Besides, Wendy had smoked most of the bowl they'd shared.

Kenny lit the joint and took his first hit, exhaling the smoke through the cold night air. Shivering, he was just about to pull his hood up to help fight the chill when he felt something cold and wet land gently on his face. Looking up, he saw that it had started to snow.

You could typically rely on Decembers in South Park to be cold and bitter. But while the small mountain town was usually buried in snow by Christmas, this year had been different – the temperature so low and unforgiving that nothing had managed to fall from the sky but ice. South Park had only seen one proper snowfall all year, and that had been weeks ago.

Kenny pulled the hood of his parka over his head and looked up at the falling snow. Taking another hit from his joint, he realized it hadn't snowed since Thanksgiving.

(Thanksgiving)

Opening his refrigerator door, Kenny pushed the turkey left over from dinner towards the back of the fridge before shoving the Tupperware containing the stuffing and mashed potatoes his mother hadn’t allowed him to leave without inside too. Thanks to an annual food drive, Thanksgiving was the one time the McCormicks had more food than they needed. He shut the door, only to pause for a moment before opening the fridge back up and reaching inside to remove a can of Sprite. Holding it in his hand, Kenny rolled his eyes up towards the ceiling and briefly considered how he wanted to spend the rest of his night, before making up his mind and closing the fridge.

Kenny set the Sprite down on the counter and went into his room for his lunchbox. Bringing it back to the kitchen, he popped it open and withdrew a small bottle of codeine – some cough syrup he’d written himself a prescription for the last time he’d gotten some ’scripts from Token. Returning to the kitchen with the cough syrup in hand, he broke the seal around its cap and brought the bottle briefly to his lips. After a quick sip he set the bottle down next to the can of soda and ducked into the cupboard to root around for the small bag of Jolly Ranchers that he knew had to still be back there. Even if Butters had been eating them the kid would’ve been too considerate to not leave Kenny at least one.

Finally finding the bag, Kenny peered inside before plucking out a green Jolly Rancher and rolling it between his fingers. After grabbing a Styrofoam cup from the cabinet above the fridge, he was set.

Kenny cracked open the can of Sprite and emptied it into the cup. He picked the bottle of cough syrup back up and, after a brief moment’s consideration, emptied about half of its contents into the soda, turning the clear liquid a medicinal purple. After one more sip from the bottle for good measure, Kenny screwed the cap back on the cough syrup and slipped it into the pocket of his parka. He plopped the Jolly Rancher into the purple concoction and it was finished. Sprite; codeine; candy. Lean. Traditionally served in Styrofoam. Kenny took a long, slow slip of the syrupy soda before picking his lunchbox back up. Supplies in hand, he made his way up to the roof to watch the sunset.

Twenty minutes later the sky had gone dark and he was halfway done sipping his lean. Kenny sat on the buttress at the edge of the roof, legs dangling off the side. Reaching for his lunchbox, he took his pipe and began to pack himself a bowl, only to be interrupted by a vibration in his coat pocket.

Kenny took out his phone to find a text from Wendy. She’d texted him two emojis: one of a pine tree, and the other one of a small fireball. He texted back a green heart. After a few moments, she texted him an emoji of a car.

Returning his phone to his pocket, Kenny took his first hit from the bowl he’d packed, before realizing that he should probably get rid of his lean before Wendy arrived. Given the choice of gulping it down or chucking his cup off the roof, he quickly found himself downing the rest of the almost sickeningly sweet liquid, allowing the Jolly Rancher to fall from the cup and into his mouth. He stored it in the side of his cheek after rolling it over his tongue for a moment. Just to get the taste. Sour green apple.

* * *

Kenny was just finishing his first bowl when he got another text from Wendy, this one containing a pair of eyes. He stared at his phone for a second before scrolling through its emoji keyboard. Considering his options, he decided to text back an emoji of a small gray square with two white letters on it: “UP!” Wendy texted back an emoji of two hands extended toward the sky in praise. Kenny grinned to himself and put his phone back in his pocket.

“I thought that one was going to get you,” he heard Wendy say behind him as she emerged from the stairwell.

“Did you?” he turned around, hopping off the buttress and taking a seat on the ground next to his lunchbox.

“Yeah, ‘cause there’s no way to say ‘roof’ in emoji.” She walked over to where Kenny was sitting and took a seat beside him. She leaned against the buttress behind them as Kenny finished packing a bowl and passed it to her. “What are we smoking tonight?”

“Christmas Lights,” Kenny told her as she took a hit.

“Isn’t it a little early?” she exhaled.

“Never too early for Christmas lights.”

“Well I guess you do leave yours on all year.” Wendy nodded to the nativity scene that Kenny had plugged in after the sun had set. Casting the two in a dim orange glow, the lawn ornaments served as the only source of light illuminating the dark rooftop. Even the stars were slowly becoming obscured by a thick layer of clouds.

“Why am I smoking you out again?” he teased her as he took the pipe back for another hit. “Did you seriously blow through the stuff I gave you last week that fast?”

“Dude, no, I can’t get high at my place; my like, whole family’s there? It’s Thanksgiving, remember?”

Kenny had practically forgotten. It seemed like every time he blinked it was getting harder to open his eyes back up. He was finding it hard to think about anything else besides him and Wendy sitting on his roof getting stoned together. His head nodded. It sounded like a nice thought to fall asleep to.

"It's cold up here," he could hear her say over the buzzing that had begun to cloud his ears. He could feel Wendy moving next to him, pulling on her pea coat and wrapping her arms around herself. Kenny couldn't feel the cold as he took another hit from the pipe Wendy'd passed him. Exhaling, he steadied himself and found his voice.

"So dinner at your folks' didn't go so well?"

"What gave you that idea," Wendy replied grimly as he handed her back the pipe.

"Well you're sitting on my roof getting high with me instead of like, playing Pictionary or whatever people do with their families on Thanksgiving."

Wendy sighed. "It was like, unbearable. It was my first time seeing everyone since I, you know... came back; and it was all anyone could talk to me about. Like you know, my aunts, my uncles, my cousins… none of them could stop telling me about how sorry they were that 'it didn't work out.' It made me feel like I was at like, I dunno... a fucking funeral for my future or something."

Wendy passed the pipe back to Kenny. He silently took a hit as she continued.

"The worst part was that some of them didn't even know. Like they were actually surprised to see me because like, I was in the city for Thanksgiving last year. That meant I had to fucking... explain things; and you know how talking about that stuff makes me feel."

"Yeah," Kenny said softly, offering a quiet condolence and a freshly packed pipe. He watched her light it as a faint buzzing began to cloud his ears, slowly growing louder as he found himself suddenly enveloped in a blanket of warm fuzz. Feeling his eyelids begin to droop, he struggled to keep them open. "Well, I'm glad you came over." He could barely make out the sound of his own voice above the steadily mounting white noise.

"Ugh, I had to.” Kenny focused on Wendy's voice, trying to keep track of what she was saying as the world behind her shifted and blurred out of focus. "I was going to go crazy if I had to spend the rest of the night sober. As soon as you texted me back I told my mom that the Broflovskis had invited me over for dessert and I bolted."

"What, didn't feel like crouching in those bushes behind your house?"

"Oh shut up," she glared at him playfully. "I wanted to see you, asshole."

"Wanted to see me, huh?" He teased again.

"Yeah, I wanted to see you," she repeated quietly. Wendy paused. "You know, whenever we do Thanksgiving at my house, my dad has us all go around the table and say what we're most thankful for."

"Cute. What'd you say?"

Wendy gave a small laugh. "I made up some bullshit about how I was thankful to have such a great family to spend the holidays with. I said that it barely made me miss school at all."

"Well I'm sure it made your folks happy to hear that."

"I guess," Wendy sighed. She was quiet for a moment. They both were.

"It made me think though, if I really did have anything to be thankful for. I've had like... y'know... kind of a bad year."

"Right."

"But as bad as it's been, the last few months haven't been as terrible as I was expecting them to be; and that's, like... mainly been because of you."

Kenny turned to face her. He wanted to respond but couldn't find the words. He was having a hard time stringing any thoughts together at all.

"And like, on the drive over here I realized that I didn't even need to have texted you. If I'd just shown up at your door and told you that I was having a rough night, you'd say something lame to make me laugh and take me up to the roof to get high."

Of course he would have.

"So yeah..." she continued. "Being stuck in South Park has been bad, but... having you around has definitely made being here a whole lot more bearable. And while I still might be bitter about how things have gone for me, well.... If you and I are friends now, at least one good thing has come from all this, right?"

Kenny still didn't know what to say. He just let her keep talking.

"Ugh, I know it sounds lame, but I guess what I'm trying to say is that... I'm thankful for you, you know?" She avoided his gaze as her voice grew softer. "So... thanks, Kenny."

After a moment's silence, Wendy's eyes found Kenny's once more. He saw a vulnerability there that he imagined she'd shown very few people. She shifted nervously as she waited for him to respond.

"Are you gonna say anything?" she asked quietly. Hopefully.

Even if Kenny could find the words, it wouldn't have mattered. The tension and noise that had been building in his head finally erupted as the codeine he'd downed before Wendy arrived hit him like a freight train and his whole world went purple. Time seemed to stop as he realized that there was only one way he could respond to what Wendy had told him. So he leaned forward, took the girl's face in his hand, and kissed her.

(Christmas)

"Hey, can I get a hit of that?"

Kenny had gotten so lost in the snow falling from the sky that he hadn't even realized that someone had walked up the driveway towards him. Standing a few feet in front of the boy, illuminated by the light that shone from above Token's garage, was Bebe Stevens.

"Oh my gosh," Kenny said softly. "Hey."

"Hey," Bebe smiled at him. The two stepped towards each other and embraced. "How've ya been, kid."

Her arms still around him, Kenny exhaled. "Things have been so weird, dude."

"It sounds like it," she told him as he passed her the joint. "Are you waiting for Wendy?"

"Nah, she already went inside. I'm probably gonna chill out here a little longer, but you should go in and find her; she probably only came to this thing because she wanted to see you."

Bebe smiled. "It's really weird," she told him, "Actually hearing you talk about her like that."

"Like how?"

"I dunno, like you know her. Although I guess you do, now."

"I mean, I don't think I know her any better than you do."

"I'm not too sure about that anymore; from everything you've told me, it sounds like there's quite a bit that no one seems to know about Wendy Testaburger."

* * *

After parting ways with Kenny, it only took Wendy about twenty minutes before she began feeling ready to leave. While she found herself amidst a sea of familiar faces for the first time since she could remember, it’d been hard to find anyone that she really wanted to talk to. It’d been nice to catch up with Red and Nichole, but listening to them talk about how college was going turned out to be just as depressing as Wendy expected.

The only person she'd really been looking forward to seeing anyways was Bebe. Whenever she'd thought of her recently, Wendy couldn't help but feel disappointed with herself for doing such a terrible job keeping in touch with her childhood best friend. Bebe had been a shoulder for her to cry on all summer, and Wendy had returned the favor by barely even texting her since Bebe had left to go back to school in September.

It wasn't that Wendy didn't want to talk to Bebe, she just never knew what to say. While her friend may have been the one person whose life at school she wouldn't have minded hearing about, Wendy wasn't exactly sure how she'd account for her own time if Bebe asked what she'd been up to in South Park. The question actually had come up more than once, but Wendy had always allowed it to end their conversation, letting the text just sit there for weeks until it was long forgotten. Wendy had hoped that talking to her friend in person might be a little easier; at least easier than having to make small talk with the rest of her former classmates.

But so far, Bebe was nowhere to be found. After taking one more cursory glance around the party for her friend, Wendy decided that she needed some punch. However, when she ducked into the kitchen to grab a cup, she came face to face with the one person she'd hoped that she could spend the night without bumping into.

"Oh, hey Wendy," Kyle Broflovski waved awkwardly.

"Oh, Kyle," Wendy started, a little caught off guard. "Hey. What's up." Ugh, she couldn't believe she was going to have to do this. "How've you been. How's uh, school."

Kyle laughed sheepishly. "Oh you know. It's Cornell." Wendy didn't know. "It's like as much work as you'd probably expect," he explained. "I carried like a full course-load this semester so I basically lived in the library..."

"Sounds rough," Wendy replied dully as she moved to pour herself some punch. She almost (almost being the key word here) felt bad for Kyle. He finally managed to get away from his mom and he still couldn't figure out how to put down a textbook for more than five minutes. God, it was like his parents had actually deprogrammed the part of his brain that knew how to have fun.

”So, uh, I was actually kinda hoping to run into you at this thing," the boy started again. He sounded nervous. Wendy arched her eyebrows at him as she took a sip from her punch. How ironic.

”I was, uh, wondering if you'd talked to Stan recently?"

Typical. Wendy took another sip of punch before giving the boy a curt reply. "No, I haven't."

"O-oh, o-okay," he stammered in what could have passed for a decent Butters impression. "I was just wondering how he's doing. I haven't talked to him in a while..."

"Well, none of us have. I think he's doing fine, though. I bumped into Sharon at the grocery store like a month ago and she said he's still in rehab. I think he's like an in-patient at SPYC. He's like, talking to people, or something. About all that stuff with his dad, I think.

"Well I'm glad he's somewhere like that at least."

"Uh huh." Wendy took another sip of punch. Kyle continued to stand around awkwardly, as if he still had questions for her or something.

"Um, I don't suppose you've talked to Cartman either?” Unbelievable. “I noticed he wasn’t here, but…”

"Yeeeeaaah... it might surprise you but Eric and I don't really... talk."

"Yeah, I wasn’t really expecting that you... yeah. I was just wondering if like..." His voice sounded small as his words seemed to fade away. "I dunno. Honestly it's been... hard making friends at school so I'd been looking forward to coming back and maybe like..."

Oh my god, was he serious? The last thing Wendy wanted to do was stand around listening to Kyle Broflovski wax nostalgic about the old friends he'd basically chosen to cut out of his own life. So everyone at Cornell probably thought that Kyle was as boring and uninteresting as he actually was. Boohoo. What was he expecting? That the relationships he'd stopped putting effort into would just be waiting around for him to come pick back up? Entitled little shit. Topping off her punch, she decided she was done.

"Hey, so uh," Kyle tried to start again. "I heard that you didn't go back to school this year and I just wanted to say that like.... totally sucks... I felt really bad when Ike told me..." Yeah, apparently not bad enough to realize that she'd be the last person who'd want to hear about how unhappy he was at his fucking dream school.

"Appreciate it," she said bitterly as she turned to head back to the party, leaving the boy alone by the punch bowl. She resisted the temptation to flip him off behind her back as she left the room. Eat shit, Kyle Broflovski.

* * *

"You're not wearing the sweater I got you!"

"I'm never going to wear that thing," Craig greeted Kenny as the blond leaned against the wall beside him.

"Well Merry Christmas to you too."

"Clyde's down to smoke after this by the way."

"Oh nice! Who else is here?"

"Ack!" Tweek practically spasmed as he scrambled around the corner to join the two. "Craig! I used up all the toilet paper in Token's bathroom!"

"Oh my god," Kenny gasped in excitement. "You got Tweek to come!"

"I didn't want to!" The other blond clarified, a mug of hot chocolate clutched in his trembling hands. "Craig knows Christmas parties make me anxious! Everything about Christmas makes me anxious! Like Santa Claus! That shit freaked me out when I was a kid! I don't want some fat guy with a beard watching me all the time! Seeing everything I do! Knowing everything about me! Judging me! It's too much pressure!"

"Not to mention the whole breaking into your house while you sleep thing, right?" Kenny winked at the jittery boy.

"Gah!"

"Don't tease him." Craig took the mug of hot chocolate from Tweek's hands and took a sip for himself. "What happened in the bathroom."

"I used the last of the toilet paper! It wasn't my fault though there was just barely any left! I... I sat there for like five minutes freaking out about whether to use it or not but... but I had to, you know! Do you think Token's gonna be mad at me!? Oh my god, he's going to think I ruined his party! Oh my god... oh my god I need to go to the store and buy more toilet paper before he finds out!"

Craig grasped the sleeve of Tweek's oversized Christmas sweater as he tried to run off in panic. "Hey. It's okay. You do not need to go to the store and buy toilet paper. Breathe."

Tweek’s whole body shuddered for a moment before he took a deep breath and exhaled loudly. "Jesus Christ," he sighed as he clutched his chest.

"Better?" Craig passed him back the hot chocolate.

"Better."

"I am so glad you brought Tweek!" Kenny grinned.

"M-merry Christmas," Tweek trembled into his mug.

"Did you bring the other one?" Kenny asked Craig, looking around the party hopefully.

"Thomas is volunteering at SPYC."

"Gah!" Tweek spilled his hot chocolate on himself. "Ouch! Shit! Craig! How does Kenny know about that!"

"I told him."

"I told you I didn't want you telling people!" Tweek hushed his voice, looking around nervously. "If people find out everyone will think I'm... I'm a s-slut or something!"

"I mean it sounds like you are," Kenny winked at him again.

"Ack Craig!" Tweek started to beat the taller boy on the shoulder. "What have you told him!"

"He's joking," Craig lied, glaring at Kenny. "Can we go smoke now, Clyde said he'd be ready whenever you got here."

"Smoke!" Tweek yelped. "I don't wanna smoke! What if we get caught and thrown in jail! What if I get too high and freak out!"

"You usually just get really sappy and cuddly."

"G-gah... Okay maybe..."

"Great, so let's go."

"Dude, gimme a minute," Kenny replied. "I just got here. Besides, I can totally get Red to come smoke with us.” Kenny turned around to look for the girl, only to see Kyle Broflovski emerging from the kitchen. “Uh,” he turned back to Craig, “Actually yeah, let’s go now.”

* * *

Wendy emerged from the kitchen annoyed. Glancing around the party, she spotted Kenny chatting with Craig and Tweek over by the stairs. Ugh, she was almost tempted to ask Kenny if he wanted to duck out and smoke another bowl in his car. Fortunately, a cheery voice from behind distracted her before the rest of her resolve could crumble away.

"Surprise bitch!!!"

Wendy spun around to finally find Bebe standing behind her. With a pair of fake antlers protruding from a headband buried in her golden curls and a Christmas sweater pulled tight over her ample bust, the girl was truly a sight for sore eyes. Finally, someone she felt like she could actually talk to. But before she said anything, Wendy eyed her friend in mock scrutiny.

"Are your... holy shit, are… are your tits actually getting bigger?" she asked, trying to sound as sincerely bewildered as possible while still cracking a sly grin.

"Oh my god, shut up," Bebe laughed as the two girls embraced. "It's so good to see you."

"Ugh I cannot even tell you how good it is to see you."

"You make it sound like all your friends moved away and you've just been living in this town by yourself for the last four months or something."

"Actually I've been looking for someone to run me over with their car and you're the only one I trust to kill me on the first go."

"Oh puh-lease. The last few months couldn't have been that bad. I'm sure you've at least had time to develop some new hobbies."

"Oh yeah, let's see: uh, moping, wallowing in despair, reflecting on past failures…”

"Selling drugs?"

Wendy's stomach lurched. Oh my god what? What? This was not happening. It couldn't be.

"Uhhhhh whaaaat're you talking about?" she asked, trying not to break into a cold sweat.

"I bumped into Jimmy Valmer while I was looking for you," Bebe smirked at her. “When I asked if he'd seen you he told me you sold him some pot in the parking lot of MPCC a few months ago."

"That fucking blabbermouth," Wendy swore as her insides settled, relieved that Bebe didn't seem to know the full extent of the truth. She quickly found her composure. "I thought I could make a few bucks ditching this old weed that my roommate forgot I was holding for her. I wouldn't have sold it to Jimmy if I knew he was going to tell our entire graduating class though..."

"Relax," Bebe laughed. "I figured that you wouldn't want that kinda thing making the rounds so I told him to keep his mouth shut about it. Wouldn't want Kenny to think you're encroaching on his business, right? Or is that why you two have been hanging out so much?" she asked slyly.

There went Wendy's stomach again. "How do you know about that?" she asked, probably a little too nervously. She didn't know whether she'd meant that Kenny sold drugs or that they'd become friends.

"That Kenny sells drugs or that you two are pals now? He told me, duh. He's mentioned hanging out with you like, a bunch of times."

"What? What, do you guys like, talk?"

"Yeah, like all the time. We're super close, actually; we kinda talk to each other about everything."

Everything? "I'm confused, how long has this been going on?"

"You mean how long have we been friends? Since like, high school, dude. I swear I told you about this, like.... kind of? We like..." – she laughed nervously and broke eye contact – "Slept together a few times?"

Holy shit that was right. "Holy shit that's right."

"Did you know we lost our virginities together? Like,” Bebe giggled, “to each other.”

"Ooh no way, I do not need to think about two of my best friends doing… that.”

"Jesus Wendy it was like, five years ago. Before the whole 'Clyde' thing happened, even. Kenny really helped me get through that breakup afterwards too, actually.”

“Ahhhh what did I just say!”

“Ugh, not like… that. But like, I remember this one night, right after things ended, he came by my house around 3 AM with a bottle of cheap scotch he'd stolen from his parents or something. He woke me up by throwing pebbles at my window, can you fucking believe him?"

"Never," she deadpanned in her finest Craig Tucker impression.

"We stayed up all night drinking before Kenny went back out through the window as the sun started to come up. God, we got so drunk. We made this stupid pact and swore that we'd get married if we were both still single by the time we turned 40. Or maybe it was 30. I dunno, we were super trashed. Kenny almost broke his neck trying to climb down the side of my house."

"Cute."

Bebe's eyes narrowed. "You know," she grinned, "if I didn't know better I'd think you sound jealous.

"Ha! Good thing you know better."

"You don't have a crush on him, do you?"

"Oh my god, do not be ridiculous.”

"Shame," Bebe said into her plastic cup, rolling her eyes. "He definitely has a thing for you..."

Wendy scoffed. "Oh please."

"I mean, not that he's told me, but you can tell from the way he talks about you."

"And how's that?"

"I dunno, like you're... like the two of you are Batgirl and Robin or something. He's always telling me about the 'cool Middle Park parties' you take him to. It kinda sounds like you guys spend all your time together, honestly." Bebe laughed, "He told me he's even convinced you to smoke pot with him a few times, which I like, could not believe."

"A few times," Wendy repeated dully.

"Yeah, which is why that was like the first thing I thought of when Jimmy told me that he bought weed from you."

"Well I hate to disappoint you Bebe, but I'm not running around South Park peddling drugs with Kenny McCormick." She cooly took a sip of her punch. "But while I can't say I... approve of all of Kenny's... hobbies, I have had a good time hanging out with him for the past few months."

"And that's all you guys do. You just... hang out."

"Well, yeah. He's like... the only friend I have left here."

"And you're just friends."

Wendy hesitated to answer. She looked down at the plastic cup of punch in her hand.

(Thanksgiving)

Honestly, Wendy wasn't sure if she'd texted Kenny an hour ago with the intention of having sex with him. Of course, she'd known how Kenny might react to the feelings she'd decided to share with him. But that hadn't stopped her from asking him if she could come over, or from getting in her car and driving to his apartment, or from doing her eyeliner at the stoplights on the way there. Fuck, who was she kidding?

But whether or not this had been her intention from the start was a question she probably should've thought about before the boy had kissed her – because now all she could think about was climbing into his lap and fucking him right there on the roof. So without a second thought, she shifted to straddle him and pushed him back into the buttress behind them, taking advantage of the small gasp he let out and sliding her tongue into his mouth. Sour green apple.

"Sweet," she whispered against his lips. Kenny didn't answer with words; his response came in the form of his hands sliding up her skirt to grip her ass through her tights. Reacting to the boy's touch, she started grinding into his lap, feeling him harden beneath her. God, was she really doing this? Fuck it, she was doing this. It may have been cold, but they could keep each other warm.

Wendy's hands moved down Kenny's body, intending to make quick work of his belt and jeans. However, she paused when she realized that the boy's lips had stopped moving against her own. Drawing her head back, Wendy could see that Kenny’s face had begun welling up in frustration. He looked down to avoid her gaze, only for a few tears to begin falling from his face. Shit.

“Shit, shit, shit,” she heard Kenny say under his breath as she slid off him and back onto the ground. He buried his face in his hands but she could tell from the way his shoulders trembled that the boy was crying.

Wendy tried not to panic “K-kenny?” her voice broke. “Kenny, what’s wrong?”

“I just… I’m sorry, but I… I dunno if I can keep doing this, Wendy.”

 She swallowed hard. “Doing what?”

“I dunno…” he said quietly. “These… one-more-times.”

Her stomach dropped. “Kenny…”

“I’m really sorry, I mean, it’s just… a few months ago you told me that this wasn’t going to happen again. But like… we’ve had two one-more-times since then and this just feels like it’s happening again. I guess it’s just gotten to the point where I just… I don’t really know how to feel.”

Wendy felt like a complete bitch.

She was almost afraid to respond. “Do you feel like… like I’ve been using you?”

Kenny sighed in frustration. “No, it’s not that. It’s more like… I dunno... I really… like you, Wendy.”

Her heart felt like it was breaking. “I really like you too,” she hurried to reply. Fuck, she was about to start crying herself. “I… I meant what I said before, you know.”

“I didn’t mean to kiss you,” Kenny sniffed a few tears away.

A tear fell down Wendy’s own cheek. “Well… I was kind of asking for it.” Yep, now they were both crying. So much for her eyeliner.

“I don’t know what you’re asking for, though. Because every time this happens, it feels like it’s… like it’s leading to somewhere we can’t go.”

Wendy had been hanging out with Kenny for so long now that she’d started to routinely forget that the entire reason the two of them had grown close in the first place was that she’d needed a way to fund her escape from South Park – an escape they both knew would involve leaving him behind. Remembering never made her feel very good. 

She looked at Kenny. Wendy could tell by the sadness in his eyes that they were both struggling with the same emotions. There was some comfort in that, but not enough to prevent her from beating her fist on the ground in frustration. “Fuck, dude.”

Kenny let out a small laugh. “Right?”

“I mean, if things were just… different.”

The boy was silent for a moment. “You ever wish they were?”

“Of course I do,” she admitted through her tears. The fact that he even had to ask made her feel bad. “I mean… being friends with you has been more fun than anything that could’ve happened to me if I’d gone back to school last semester.”

“You’re gonna make me kiss you again.”

Still crying, they both laughed.

“I’m really sorry,” Wendy said, her voice quiet again. “I don’t… I guess I don’t always know what I want.”

“Well, I just want things to be okay with us when you… when you leave. I’m not sure they would be if we started acting like anything other than friends in the meantime.”

Wendy sighed. She knew he was right, but Kenny had become so, so much more than just a friend. How could she possibly put into words just how special he’d become to her?

Suddenly, she found the words she'd been searching for.

“Y’know…” she began quietly, “You’re more than just my friend, Kenny.”

Moments passed before the boy replied. Finally, he answered her.

“Don’t say what I think you’re about to say.”

“…You’re my super best friend.”

Kenny sighed. “C’mere,” he motioned for her to come sit by him.

Wendy shifted around until she was sitting next to him, edging closer until their bodies touched. Leaning her head against his shoulder, she wiped the tears from her eyes. Listening to his breathing, she could tell that he’d stopped crying too.

"Is this okay?" she asked. "Was this okay?"

"Yeah," he answered quietly. "Are you still cold?"

Before Wendy could answer, she felt something wet touch the tip of her nose, something colder than the tears she'd been crying only moments before. She looked up to see that it had started to snow. The first snowfall of the year. She huddled closer to Kenny.

"No."

(Christmas)

"Yeah," Wendy said quietly, still looking down at her cup. "Yeah, we're just friends."

Wendy felt her phone vibrate. Taking it out, she saw she’d gotten a text; a car emoji.

“Hang on,” she told Bebe, “I’ll be right back.”

* * *

Kenny leaned against Wendy's car, her gift tucked under his arm. Hearing the click of the car's automatic locks, he turned to see Wendy walking towards him, her hands buried in the pockets of her pea coat.

"You coulda just grabbed me on your way out dude!" she said as she drew close. "I almost missed your text."

"I didn't wanna blow your cover," he winked at her. "Here," he said, holding out her present. "Gotchya something."

Kenny thought the girl looked a little nervous as she took her gift and turned it over in her hands.

"Can I open it now?"

"Please!"

Wendy unwrapped the gift to reveal a vinyl copy of “Born to Run” by Bruce Springsteen. She turned it over in her hand before letting out a sigh of exasperation. "Unbelievable."

Kenny couldn't help but be a little taken back. "Hey, what? I know you don't have a turntable but I still thought it'd be fun to get stoned and play it over at my place. We've never listened to Springsteen together before! Plus, that's a first pressing! I actually found a-"

"A guy online who was selling a bunch of original copies," Wendy replied dully before he could finish.

"Uh, yeah, actually," Kenny said in confusion. "Wait, what?"

Instead of answering, Wendy walked past him and opened the back door of her car. She reached in and pulled out what could only be a vinyl record concealed in some festive wrapping paper.

"Oh you're kidding.”

Wendy just sighed in amusement, holding out the boy's gift. "Merry Christmas, Kenny."

Kenny took his present and let out a small laugh. "Merry Christmas, Wendy."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy holidays!!


	10. Blonde

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Wendy hangs out with the goth kids. Kenny and Karen go to 7-11. Bebe's still skeptical. Craig almost gets himself killed. Butters just tries to do his job. Season 2 Premier.

"Switch."

**Season 2: "Skeleton"**

"Hm?" Kenny hummed, the straw of his blueberry slurpee slipping out of his mouth.

Karen held out her cherry slurpee and repeated herself. "Switch."

Kenny sighed and exchanged cups with his sister. "They let you mix flavors, y’know."

"I don't like the way they taste mixed together. We've been through this."

Sighing again, Kenny started to drink the slurpee his sister had handed him. His car sat in the parking lot of the 7-11 a few miles from their parents' house, parked under the tall neon sign that served as the only light in the dark night sky. The radio played softly as the two McCormicks passed their slurpees back and forth in silence, speaking only to comment on the occasional car turning onto the ramp leading to the Colorado Interstate across from the lot.

"Denver?" Kenny asked as a blue Hyundai made its way up the ramp.

His sister shook her head wisely. "Boulder." She went back to sipping her slurpee before adding a quiet "Obviously..."

Kenny buckled his seatbelt. "I should have known."

By the time Kenny's car pulled up in front of their parents' house, the two had finished their slurpees. Shifting into park, Kenny looked at the dim yellow lights in the window of his old home. "You want me to come in with you?"

"Nah, I think I'm good. Thanks for tonight though; and thanks for the t-shirt! If you find the one with the squiggly lines on it you have to give me that one too."

"I can't believe you're dating one of the goth kids," Kenny groaned as she got out of the car and slung her backpack over her shoulder. "You know how I feel about the goth kids."

"Oh my god, I told you, I am not dating Firkle; and I'm not hiding some kind of secret relationship..." Karen's eyes narrowed. "Unlike you."

Kenny scoffed. "Oh, unlike me? Please, tell me, with whom am I supposedly having this torrid affair."

Karen gave him another look that told him the answer should have been obvious.

"Craig Tucker."

* * *

"That fucking asshole."

"Oh will you relax, he was just joking. I mean, probably."

"Tell me what he said again," Wendy fumed at Bebe from across their table at Tweak Bros. "Tell me exactly what he said."

Bebe sighed and rolled her eyes. "I told you, I hung out with Kenny last night and I mentioned I was sorry that I didn't get to spend time with both of you together before I head back to school tomorrow. Y'know, since the two of you are 'friends' now?"

"I know you put scare quotes around friends, bitch."

Ignoring Wendy's interruption, Bebe continued. "Then he said that it was probably for the best that we didn't hang out together, since, and here I'm just using regular quotes, 'we'd most likely end up having a threesome, or something.'"

"Godddddd," Wendy almost slammed her head against the table. Instead she just picked up the mug of earl grey that Tweek had almost spilled on her a few minutes ago and took a long slow sip. "Why. Why is he like this."

Bebe shrugged. “I mean, I dunno, I can think of worse arrangements. Actually, you two would probably be my first picks for that kinda scenario, now that I think about it."

"Why was I so surprised when I found out you two were friends."

"Hindsight's 20/20, I guess."

Wendy didn't want to tell Bebe, but she'd actually spent most of her friend's winter break actively avoiding any kind of situation that might put the three of them in a room together – and not because she was afraid of a menage a troix. What really made her nervous was not being sure if she and Kenny could turn off the consistent flirting that had practically become a cornerstone of Wendy's friendship with him. Sure, they may have been sticking to the rule they'd established on thanksgiving, but the lack of an occasional fuck had resulted in a sexual tension between the two so fierce that Wendy was sure her friend would be able to tell something was up. And she definitely didn't need Bebe getting any more ideas than she seemed to already have.

"Well, I'm sure the three of us will find something to do together this summer. That isn't a threesome, I mean. And hey, I might be closer to getting back to NYU by then, so maybe I won't be such a drag to be around."

"Oh shut up," Bebe smiled at her. "You don't need NYU, you know."

"You don't think so?" Wendy joked with her.

"Naaaaah..." Bebe's smile turned into a smirk as she studied Wendy for a moment. "I'm sorry, I seriously cannot believe you're wearing that thing again."

"What!" Wendy exclaimed as she reached up to clutch the pink beret sitting on top of her head defensively. "C'mon, this thing is great."

"I thought you decided that wearing a beret was 'pretentious' in junior year?"

"Yeah, well, I figure if I have to be a big fish in a small pond, I can afford myself the occasional pretension."

Bebe looked at her skeptically.

"Look, don't make fun of me, okay? It feels cool to be wearing it again. I mean, this is some classic Wendy Testaburger shit right here, y'know?"

"I'm just sayin', there's only one other kid I know who's been wearing the same hat since he was a little kid."

“Kenny’s parka isn’t a hat,” Wendy glared at her preemptively.

"I wasn't going to say Kenny."

"Well who were you going to say."

"Craig Tucker."

* * *

Craig Tucker reached up to adjust his hat. The metal chain attaching the handcuff around his wrist to the briefcase in his lap jangled as he moved his hand. Sitting beside him, Kenny drummed nervously on the steering wheel of his car, which was currently parked on a ledge overlooking Stark’s Pond. He stared out the windshield at the moonlight reflecting off of the water as the two boys sat patiently in silence.

"I hate these bulk drops,” Kenny murmured, checking his car's rearview mirror. “I don’t care how well they pay, they're always weird." He looked over at Craig. "Don't let me agree to one of these again."

"I told you not to do this one to begin with."

"Well be more insistent next time. Why did you chain that thing around your wrist."

"I thought it'd look cool."

"Well," Kenny turned away from him, annoyed. "It does," he admitted begrudgingly.

Neither of them said anything else for several moments. Finally, Craig broke the silence.

"So did you fuck Bebe while she was home on break."

"Dude, what? No. Bebe and I haven't slept together in like, years. Honestly it'd probably be kinda weird at this point."

"Because you're fucking Wendy."

"Oh my god, I am not fucking Wendy! That was one time, and it was Halloween, so it like, barely counts."

"The only time you've fucked Wendy was on Halloween," Craig stated skeptically.

"I'm still not sure how you even figured that out."

"I saw both of you the next day. It was obvious.”

"Oh shut up."

“I wasn’t surprised either.

“Shut up, Craig.”

"You two give off pheromones when you're around each other.”

"Shut up, Craig!"

"Anyone would be able to tell. Has Bebe hung out with both of you at once."

Kenny shifted in his seat, thoroughly irritated. “She wanted to, but it never happened. I told her that it was probably for the best since we'd all probably end up having a threesome or something."

"Now you're speaking my language," Craig deadpanned as the inside of Kenny's car lit up. The two turned around to see another vehicle killing its headlights just as it pulled up behind them. Sparing each other a quick glance, the two boys opened their doors and climbed out of Kenny's car, to find the occupants of the other vehicle emerging as well.

"What's happ'nin'," the driver greeted cooly as his door shut behind him. The man was tall and lanky, dressed in a heavy military jacket and skinny jeans. He had long dreadlocks, pulled tight into a bun behind his head, and his eyes were obscured by a pair of rose-tinted sunglasses, lenses as round as John Lennon's. Despite the layer of snow on the ground, he wore nothing on his feet but a pair of expensive looking flip flops. As he approached, Kenny saw that he was flanked by two other dealers, both dressed just as flamboyantly. They looked like a rap trio.

"What's up," Kenny nodded, trying to seem just as cool. "You guys wanna make this quick?"

"Yeah... yeah..." the one who'd been driving the car replied, looking around and surveying the surrounding area. He licked his lips. "We just gotta take care of something real quick then we'll be right with you."

"Uh, oka-"

"Yo," the trio's leader turned to one of the other dealers and snapped his fingers. "Out here."

Kenny and Craig watched in horror as one of the other two dealers walked behind the car, popped open the trunk, and pulled out a naked man bound with ropes. A bandana had been shoved into his mouth, muffling his cries as the dealer dropped his body to the ground and dragged him towards the group through the snow. Kenny and Craig tried to remain as composed as possible as they shared terrified glances.

Looking down at the man on the ground, the group’s leader released a sigh of profound disappointment.

"What did I tell your boys,” he asked.

Wild eyed, his prisoner looked up and tried to scream something through his gag. It sounded like he was begging for his life.

The head dealer just sighed again. "I tooooold your boys not to play me. But what did they try and do?"

The man on the ground continued to yell and writhe around, trying to free himself from the ropes. The leader gave another nod towards the other dealers, sending one of them to go get something from the car.

Kenny and Craig stood in silence.

"They tried to play me, son. I told 'em not to play me, but they tried to play me. And I hate. when people try to play me."

The dealer who’d left for the car returned carrying what looked like two heavy weights. As he approached, the man on the ground's eyes widened and he began writhing around even harder than before, his body shaking with desperation. Kenny and Craig turned their heads to look at each other, horrified expressions on both of their faces. The man's screams turned to sobs as two of the dealers began tying the weights around his legs.

The group’s leader rubbed his hands together as his men picked up the prisoner by his arms and legs. Ignoring his cries, they carried him over to the edge of the cliff overlooking Stark's Pond, before unceremoniously dropping the man over the side. Kenny and Craig heard one long final muffled scream, and a splash.

As the dealers walked back towards them, the leader turned to Kenny and Craig. "My apologies, gentlemen. Now. How 'bout you let us see that product."

The boys stood in shock. Without taking his eyes off the drug dealers, Craig whispered over to Kenny.

"Give me the key to the handcuffs."

Kenny’s stomach may as well have dropped out of his ass. "You mean you? don't? have it?"

**Chapter 10: "Blonde"**

Craig fucking Tucker.

Wendy sat in her car, looking at herself in the rearview mirror and fuming. With a huff, she tore the pink beret off her head and threw it into the backseat of her car. After studying herself in the mirror for another moment, she reached back and grabbed it, putting it back on her head and straightening it out. Fuck Craig Tucker, her beret was cool. And she was way better at selling drugs than that kid.

Speaking of which.

Wendy emerged from her car and into the chill of Middle Park's night air, the snow on the ground crunching beneath her Doc Martens. Slinging her backpack over her shoulder, she pulled out her phone to make sure she'd gotten the right address and began making her way towards the house hosting the first MPCC party of the winter semester. It had been nice to take a few weeks off to hang out with her old friends while they were in town for break, but it was time to get back to business.

Wendy walked into the party only to be assaulted by a harsh blast of feedback and crashing drums coming from the living room. Turning the corner, she peaked in to see what was going on.

"I'M DEAD I'M DEAD I'M DEAD I'M DEAD I'M DEAD!!!!!!"

Oh great, the goth kids were playing Middle Park parties now.

Wendy made her way towards the kitchen. "Who's ready to get liiiiiiittt," she sang dryly as she entered the room. Looking around, she spotted one of the party's hosts trying to flirt with some girl in the corner. "Yo, Tyler," she called over to him. "Can I use your bathroom?"

"Word," he called back without turning around.

“Word," she repeated, leaving the kitchen and heading for the stairs.

* * *

As per usual, it only took Wendy about an hour to sell through the majority of the weed she'd brought to the party. After it was gone, she packed some of what was left into what she intended to be the last bowl of the night. Taking the first hit for herself, she passed her bong to the couple of kids who'd stuck around to shoot the shit and hotbox the bathroom with her.

"I still can't get over the silicone thing," Sarah giggled as she took hold of the Future is Here, Now, Boys. "It's like we're smoking out of a dildo."

"Does your dildo glow in the dark too?" Josh teased her.

"Does yours?" Wendy asked him, butting in from her seat inside the bathtub.

"It's really funny that you always sit in the bathtub," Brennan tried to flirt with her as Sarah passed him the bong.

"What can I say," Wendy replied without looking at him. "I'm a character."

"You totally are, though," Sara interjected, her red eyes wide and glazed over. "I mean, think about it. A girl with an undercut and a rubber bong who goes around community college parties selling weed. Wendy... how are you a real person... how do you exist..."

Wendy turned to the group, her expression gravely serious. "Maybe... I don't."

"Whooooaaaaaa," the rest of the stoners all said at the same time.

"Holy shit," an unimpressed voice deadpanned from the bathroom doorway. "Is this what passes for existential drug conversations in Middle Park."

Wendy turned to see the goth kids standing in the doorway. "Oh hooray, the joy division has arrived."

"Good one," Michael sneered as the goth kids made their way into the bathroom. Wendy's customers took this as their cue to leave, quietly exiting the bathroom, as if simply being in the goths’ presence would be enough to drain their very souls from their bodies.

Wendy remained seated in the tub. "So what's up. If you're looking for Stan I haven't talked to him in like, a year."

"Ugh, like we'd even let that fucking conformist hang out with us anymore," Pete flipped his hair. "We're just trying to get stoned."

"Yeah," Henrietta added. "Obviously we weren't expecting the girl everyone said was selling would be... you... but... here you are."

"In all my glory," Wendy deadpanned as she lit herself another bong hit. "Lucky for you I've still got some left," she exhaled. Looking around the bathroom, she noticed that one of the goths was missing. "Where's the little one."

"Don’t call me that," Firkle told her as he entered the bathroom. With him was a freckled girl with strawberry blonde hair who looked to be around his age, dressed in an oversized Misfits t-shirt.

"Oh shit, you guys have normal friends?"

"You're not funny," Michael told her. "Can we hit that?" he asked, pointing to the bong still in Wendy's hands.

"Yeah but you gotta buy."

"Cool," the tallest goth replied as he took the bong. He took a hit and passed it to Henrietta. "Firkle will pay you."

"What the fuck, why me?"

"Cause I'm not paying for you AND your girlfriend to get stoned."

"She's not my girlfriend."

"Hey, uh, I don't need to smoke!" she chimed in.

"Wait, I thought you guys were like straight edge?" Wendy asked.

"Oh my god, we're goths. You're talking about hardcore kids."

"Whatever." Wendy nodded towards the girl as Pete passed her the bong. "Don't worry about these Edgar Allen Assholes, you can smoke all you want."

The girl clutched the bong in her hands like a foreign object. "I dunno," she laughed nervously. "I've actually never smoked weed before."

"Oh, dude, it's totally okay," Wendy assured her. "Like six months ago neither had I but now I'm like, the Michael Phelps of smoking weed."

The girl laughed. "I hate to break it to you, but I think Michael Phelps is already the Michael Phelps of smoking weed."

"Ha." Wendy laughed expressionlessly. "You're funny." She turned towards Firkle. "She's funny," she repeated in the same dry tone. "Where'd you find her."

"She goes to school with Firkle," Henrietta answered before turning to the youngest goth's friend. "Wendy's a South Park High alum."

"I think you might've went to school with my brother?" the girl told Wendy.

"Kid, I went to school with a lotta people's brothers. You should totally hit that bong, though."

The girl flicked Wendy's lighter a few times before getting it to stay lit. "Like this?" she asked as she brought the bong to her mouth, mimicking the motions she'd seen the goths make a few moments earlier. Inhaling, she drew her face away from the bong and scrunched her eyes up as she held the smoke in, finally releasing it in a fit of coughs. 

"Nice," Wendy snapped and pointed a finger gun at the girl as her coughing diminished. "Now which one of you is actually paying me."

* * *

Twenty minutes later, the goth kids and their friend sat sprawled out on the bathroom floor.

"Okay," Wendy asked. "So this... ‘Cthulu’ thing... is like... a sea monster."

"That's not how you say his name," Pete groaned in frustration. "And he's not a sea monster, he's a god. An Old God. He's like, THE Old God!"

"Dude can you chill the fuck out," Henrietta said without looking at him.

"Did you guys know Michel Phelps' lungs are like, twice the size of an average human's," the blonde girl spoke up at the ceiling from her place on the floor.

"That's fucked up," Wendy replied. "I guess that's why he's so good at swimming."

"And why he's so good at smoking weed."

"Fuck, I wanna smoke weed with Michael Phelps. That guy is... like... he's truly an inspiration, y’know?"

"Yeah if you're into fucking jocks," Pete sneered.

"She did date Stan for like, twenty years," Henrietta added.

"Oh my god," Wendy replied, "Stan stopped playing sports in like, middle school."

"Stan Marsh?" the girl in the Misfits shirt asked.

"Wendy's ex-husband," Michael clarified.

Wendy scoffed in disbelief that the conversation had somehow managed to end up where it had. "Oh my god, can we not? Don't you four have coffins you need to get back to, or something?"

Pete rolled his eyes. "No, but we should go. We're playing a party in North Park tomorrow and I don't wanna feel like shit."

The blonde girl's eyes widened and she tugged at Firkle's sleeve. "Hey. Hey. You said I could show you Hamilton on the drive home." The youngest goth groaned.

"You ever deal up in North Park?" Michael asked Wendy. She'd remained seated as the goth kids began to pick themselves up from the floor. "We can like, never find anyone selling pot up there."

"Nah, North Park is like.... a drive.”

"I don't think anyone really smokes weed in North Park anymore anyways," Henrietta said. "It's like... all crystal up there now."

"Yikes," Wendy grimaced, "Like crystal meth?"

"It's huge in North Park right now," Pete told her. "I mean, it's always been pretty big with all those biker gangs that hang out up there, but it's really been blowing up lately. Like the mayor declared it an epidemic and everything. There've been people doing it at like, every party we've played up there recently."

"You guys play crystal meth parties?" Firkle's friend asked him, clearly a little skeeved out.

"They like our music," Firkle reasoned.

"But you guys have never messed around with that stuff, right?" she asked.

"Henrietta and I tried it once," Michael answered, "but only because the dude whose house we were playing offered. I can definitely see why people get addicted to it but there's no fucking way I'm paying for crystal when we can barely afford weed; real drugs aren't cheap."

"How much does that stuff usually go for?" Wendy asked.

"I dunno; way more than you'd expect the kinda people who do it to have, though. I mean, if you ever decided to sell the rest of your soul and start dealing meth you could probably really clean up."

"Yeah," Wendy answered. "I probably really could."

* * *

"So yeah, Craig doesn't have the key, and we're like, scared shitless, right? Like we just saw these guys drown somebody in Stark's Pond, right? But luckily they had a hacksaw in their trunk –  I don't even want to think about why – and they were able to just saw through the chain. They actually turned out to be really nice guys; they even gave us a copy of their mixtape and they're like, pretty good if you’re into-"

"Gaaaaahhhh if you’re going to be in here you have to order something! You can’t just stand around up here, you’re distracting Butters!”

Butters was nervously scrambling to complete three drink orders at once while Kenny talked at him from across the front counter of Tweak Bros. Clutching the register, Tweek fumed at Kenny before turning to help the next customer on line.

Kenny didn’t reply to Tweek’s outburst. ”Yo Butters,” he turned back towards the boy behind the counter, “your boss is kind of a dick."

"I-I'm not getting distracted Mr. Tweak! I'll have these ready right away!"

"Oh my god," Kenny looked over at Tweek. "You make him call you Mr. Tweak?"

"Ack! No! I don't! Butters I told you to stop calling me that!"

"Aw, I'm sorry Mr. Tweak!"

"Gah!"

Kenny heard the bell over the coffee shop's door ring and turned to see Wendy step inside, shaking some snow from her pink beret. Ugh. That thing was cute. He walked over to meet her by a booth in the corner.

“Sup!” he greeted as he took a seat.

“Hey hey hey,” she replied, too busy typing something into her phone to look up at him as she spoke. “Sorry I’m late, traffic coming back from school was awful. I can’t stay long either, I gotta pick my mom up from chemo like right after this.” It wasn’t until Wendy had finally removed her coat and taken a seat that she looked at him. “But I really wanted to talk to you about something.”

Kenny blinked. “About what?”

“I guess… about… us.”

Kenny sank into his seat a bit. “Oh jeez, what? Why? We’ve been like… ‘being good,’ haven’t we?”

Wendy shook her head. “Oh, my god, no I’m sorry, I didn’t mean like that. I mean us as like, I dunno, drug dealers I guess.”

“Uh, how about you keep your voice down,” Kenny said through his teeth.

“I mean us as like, I dunno, drug dealers I guess,” Wendy repeated in a harsh whisper.

Kenny glared at her. “Fine, okay. Team strategy meeting. What’s up?”

Wendy seemed nervous. “Well, I was kinda wondering if you could… I dunno, tell me how I’ve been doing.”

“Like what, a performance review?”

“Don’t make fun of me.”

“You’re just such a nerd.”

“Look, I’m serious. I’ve been doing this for almost five months now, and I think I’ve gotten pretty good at it – but I want to hear what you think, too.”

“Well I mean, I’m not sure what exactly I’m supposed to say. Obviously I think you’re doing great; I mean, we probably made more on Halloween alone than I used to make in a single month. Things have been really good.”

Kenny thought he could see the girl sigh in relief. “Okay. Cool. So like, that means you trust me, right?”

“Oooooh, that is a troubling question for this to have led to, Testaburger.”

“No, no, don’t worry it’s cool! It’s just that… okay, I need to ask you something. I was talking to the goth kids at this party in Middle Park last weekend-“

“Why is everybody fucking friends with the goth kids now.”

“-and they were telling me about how they’ve played a few house shows up in North Park. Now, apparently, everyone at these parties is on like, crystal meth.”

Kenny’s stomach sank. “Okay, stop.”

Wendy stopped talking. “What?”

“Please tell me you aren’t going to ask me what I think you’re going to ask me.”

She definitely looked nervous now. “Well what do you think I’m going to ask you…”

Kenny just stared at her. “What are you going to ask me.”

Wendy paused. “Do you wanna start selling crystal meth up in North Park?”

Kenny couldn’t believe what he was hearing. “Oh my god, Wendy, are you serious? No. No way.” He scoffed and turned to stare out the window of the coffee shop. Wendy just sat across from him in silence, as if trying to think of the right thing to say next.

“Well… could you maybe just help me get some then? I know you have like, some kind of connection that gets you your stuff; all you’d have to do is talk to them for me, you wouldn’t have to actually help me sell it.”

That definitely wasn’t it. “I’m not helping you with this at all, dude,” he turned back to face her. “Honestly, how could you even ask me about this? I mean, don't you know what... fuck, you know? My brother?"

"I know, I know," Wendy hurried to apologize, "I’m sorry, I know this isn’t very cool of me, but I swear, I wouldn’t even ask if I didn’t think we’d be able to make some serious money; and I mean, I think we’d be fine, you know? Like, this is us we’re talking about, I don’t think we’d-“

"You don't think we'd what."

Wendy was silent. Kenny felt his phone vibrate in his pocket. Taking it out he saw that he'd gotten a text.

"Hey, uh, dad hit mom."

Kenny rubbed his eyes in frustration and swore under his breath. "Fuck." He pocketed his phone and looked up at Wendy. "I gotta go."

Wendy didn't say anything to try and stop him as he zipped up his parka and hurried out the door. After he'd left, she groaned and sunk into her seat. God, she’d fucked that up. Why did she think that would work? Why did she even think it would be an okay thing to do? She picked up her phone to start texting Kenny that she was sorry, only to drop it in frustration upon realizing that there was no appropriate way to apologize to someone using emojis.

Ugh, and she still had to go pick up her mom. Fucking hell; Wendy loved her mother, but after a packed day of community college back to back with fucking up and pissing Kenny off, all she really wanted to do was go home and smoke herself into a coma. Gathering her things, she decided that at the very least she'd need some caffeine to get her through the last few hours of her night.

"Hey Butters," she greeted as she approached the register, too weary to even order properly. “Can I have something that’ll wake me up? Like, to go?"

"O-oh sure Wendy!" he replied cheerily, entering her order into the register. "Anything else I can do for you?"

Wendy sighed. "Yeah. If you see Kenny later can you tell him I'm sorry I'm such an asshole."

* * *

Kenny sat in his car facing his parents’ house, gripping the steering wheel and looking at the dim lights in the windows. Taking a breath, he killed the engine and got out of the car, making his way towards the house's front door. Steeling himself, he turned the knob.

Things always happened fast whenever Kenny walked in on his parents fighting. The way they both shouted at each other usually made it hard for him to even know what was going on in the first place. This time was no different. Kenny entered the house to find his father gripping his mom in the living room. They were both yelling, swearing, calling each other names. Kenny didn't see Karen anywhere.

"Hey!" Kenny tried to shout over them. “Hey!” After they failed to stop struggling, Kenny rushed over to them and grabbed his father, trying to pull the two away from each other. The next thing he knew, his father's elbow was colliding with his face, sending him back against the wall and dropping him to the floor with a swift blow.

Kenny's parents went silent as their son hit the ground. Kenny sat up, his hand rising to touch his face where his father had struck him. His mother spared him a worried glance before turning back to his father.

"Way to go you fucking asshole," she said to her husband before hurrying out of the room. Kenny's father looked down at his son for a moment before taking a seat on the couch and looking down at the floor, his head in his hands.

Kenny got up without saying anything to his dad. "Karen!" he yelled, knowing that she'd be able to hear him from her room. A few moments later the girl emerged. She looked over at the couch to see that her father had begun to cry. Turning back to Kenny, she greeted him awkwardly.

"Heyyyyy."

* * *

Kenny and Karen sat in the parking lot of 7-11, watching the road in front of them and waiting to see which cars turned onto the interstate.

"Switch," Karen broke the silence. Kenny traded slurpees with her. His eyes lingered on her as she took the drink without looking at him, her gaze still fixed on the road outside. "Denver," she said quietly as a car disappeared up the ramp.

Kenny didn't offer a guess himself. Instead, he just watched as the car drove off into the night, bound for somewhere surely better than the quiet mountain town Kenny had called his home his entire life.

He looked back at Karen, and then back at the interstate. Pulling his phone out of his pocket, he opened the mobile banking app he used to keep track of his finances. He hadn’t worried about being low on funds since he’d started selling drugs, but taking a look at his savings, he doubted he’d have anywhere near enough money to do something as crazy as, oh, say...

Moving out of South Park and taking Karen with him? 

No, he definitely couldn’t do that. Could he? No. No way. That would be crazy. Besides, he didn’t even know how he’d be able to make enough money to do something like, oh, shit. Fuck. Hm.

"Where do you think that one's going?" his sister asked.

"I dunno," Kenny replied absentmindedly. He hadn't noticed that another car had turned onto the interstate; he was too busy staring at the text conversation with Wendy he'd opened on his phone. After a few moments of hesitation, he scrolled far back into his phone's emoji keyboard and found a grey square with two white letters on it.

"OK"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Welcome to season 2 yo!!


	11. Plan B - Part 1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kenny and Wendy get lunch with an old friend. Part 1 of 2.

Kenny's car pulled up in front of a small suburban home and parked alongside the front curb. Emerging from the passenger seat, Wendy looked at the house.

"Man, I can't believe I'm finally gonna meet your mysterious drug connection."

**Chapter 11: "Plan B" - Part 1**

"Dude, can you not mention the drug stuff around Butters?” Kenny told her as he got out of the car himself.

"U-uh, yeah!" A confused Butters poked his head out of the car’s backseat window. "I could hear everything you guys were saying on the drive over too ya know..."

"Why is he with us anyways?" Wendy asked Kenny as the three of them approached the door of the house. “And where are we? This is like, around the corner from where Stan’s family lives.”

Reaching the house first, Butters rang the doorbell. A few moments later, the door opened and the three were greeted by Leanne Cartman.

"Why hello Butters! Oh and look who's with you!"

Before Butters could return the woman’s greeting, Kenny piped up behind him. "Hi Leanne!"

The woman looked delighted to see him. "My, what a pleasant surprise! Eric didn't tell me you'd be coming over today – and my goodness, Wendy Testaburger! Is that really you? How are your parents? I was so sorry to hear about your mother; I hope she's doing well!"

Wendy was speechless. "Ummmm..." Instead of answering, she started to elbow Kenny in the side as subtly as she could – half in frustration with him for putting her in this position, half as a desperate plea for him to get her out of it.

"Unfortunately, Wendy and I can't really stay to chat," Kenny smiled apologetically as Leanne let them into the house. "I'm really only here to drop Butters off, but Wendy was actually hoping Eric might be able to help her with something for a class she's taking at MPCC. After that we'll be out of your hair."

Wendy felt ready to throw up as she realized what Kenny had actually just meant.

"Oh don't be silly, you're no bother at all! My son's down in the basement; Butters, why don't you come to the kitchen with me? I think I have a batch of cookies just about ready to come out of the oven!"

"Whoa, I love cookies!"

As Leanne and Butters disappeared into the kitchen, Wendy followed Kenny through the Cartman household until they found a door with a security code above the lock.

"There's no way this is actually happening," Wendy deadpanned as Kenny punched in a few numbers and opened the door, revealing a staircase down to the basement.

"MOM!" a sickeningly familiar voice roared from the room below. "I TOLD YOU YOU'RE NOT ALLOWED DOWN HERE! IF BUTTERS IS HERE TELL HIM I'LL BE THERE IN A GOD DAMN MINUTE!" 

Kenny gave her a look that said "Remember, this was your idea." She responded with a look of utter despair.

"There's no way this is actually happening," Wendy repeated, moaning as she followed Kenny downstairs.

"So your mom knows the password to your secret evil lair?" Kenny sneered as they reached the bottom.

“Oh, it’s you,” a voice said from deeper in the basement. It came from a large chair, which sat in front of a desk stacked with computer monitors, each displaying a different degenerate corner of the darkest parts of the internet that someone like Eric Cartman might call home.

Wendy was so sure that Cartman was going to spin around in his chair like some kind of lame-ass wannabe super villain that she was almost disappointed when he rotated around lazily to greet them. She hadn't seen him since high school, but he hadn't changed. He was as fat as ever of course; while a moderate growth spurt in his early teens may have distributed his weight a little more evenly, you still couldn't say he was skinny. He wasn't necessarily tall either – leaving the boy nothing more than an average-sized lump of furious, maniacal pudge. Wendy tried to avert her eyes from his bloated stomach, sagging out of the bottom of his shirt.

"So what are you here for?“ the boy began to ask Kenny, before noticing that Wendy was there as well. His mouth dropped open, eyes bulging behind the pair of thick black-rimmed glasses he’d worn since middle school. Frozen, Cartman shut his mouth and closed his eyes, taking a moment to regain his composure. Finally, he took a deep breath and blinked his eyes open, looking at Kenny politely and folding his hands.

“WHAT THE FUCK IS SHE DOING HERE!"

"I can't believe your mysterious drug connection is Eric Cartman."

"WHAT THE FUCK DID SHE JUST SAY!" Cartman leapt out of his chair and advanced towards them.

Kenny grinned nervously. "Okay Cartman, caaaaaalm down…"

"Don't tell me to fucking calm down, Kenny! You've got some serious fucking explaining to do. And YOU," he pointed a finger at Wendy, "Get the FUCK out of my house!"

Instead of answering, Wendy just glared at him, before taking a menacing step towards the portly boy.

"Actuallllllly," Kenny quickly got between the two, "Wendy was hoping to talk to you!"

Cartman scoffed, “I’ve got nothing to say to this bitch! She probably knows too much already!”

“Dude, relax, Wendy’s cool! I know I haven't told you, but believe it or not, she’s actually been selling drugs with me for like, a few months now.”

“WEEEAAAK DUUUUUDE are you fucking KIDDING ME?? What the fuck are you thinking! This is Wendy fucking Testaburger you fucking ‘tard! She’s probably a fucking narc! This is probably some… some 21 Jump Street bullshit! She’s probably fucking working with the cops and using you to get to me! And you’ve practically fucking handed her my head on a silver fucking platter!”

"Why does everybody think I'm a fucking cop?" Wendy asked Kenny, exasperated.

“I thought I told you to shut up!” Cartman pointed at her.

Fed up, Wendy pushed past Kenny and towards Cartman. He nervously retreated step by step as the girl drew closer, until he tripped back into his chair, landing right on his fat ass.

Reaching him, Wendy took the boy by the collar of his shirt and leaned in close enough to see the greasy smudge marks on the lenses of his glasses. “How about you shut the fuck up for a second instead, shithead. Because I’m here to talk to you about something that could be really good for all three of us. All you have to do is one thing for me."

Wendy's hand still at his throat, Cartman scowled up at her. As she looked back at him, he narrowed his eyes and studied the girl for a moment, before finally chuckling in amusement.

"Fine. I'll listen to what you have to say. But if I’m going to do something for you... you’re going to have to do something for me..."

* * *

"You're fucking disgusting."

Wendy watched as Cartman dipped a pair of plastic tongs into a pot of tomato sauce that had been sitting stagnant long enough to have developed a rubbery film on its surface. He glared at her out of the corner of his eyes and picked four small meatballs out of the goop, stuffing them into a stale corn tortilla shell he held in his other hand. Dropping the tongs back into the sauce, he reached for a spoon half-submerged in bright yellow nacho cheese. Then, to Wendy's horror, he poured a heaping spoonful of the cheese over the taco he was creating.

"Fuck..." she swore to herself.

Kenny walked up behind her. "Sizzler's a special place."

“I feel like I’m at a Thanksgiving dinner in hell.”

"It's not that bad. They give you as much cheese toast as you want. My mom and dad used to take us here for birthdays and stuff when we were kids. Sizzler's just a little... post-modern."

At the buffet table, Cartman was using a pair of black plastic tongs to push some cold spaghetti into his taco.

"Why wouldn't you at least put the spaghetti on before the meatballs," Wendy hissed at him.

Cartman scoffed as he topped his creation with a thick layer of sour cream. "Like I would take advice from someone who didn't get anything except the salad bar. Okay, bitch."

With that, Cartman turned his back and walked away towards the restaurant's dining area. As they followed him, Wendy gave Kenny a look that asked what kind of hell she'd managed to find her way into and what she'd done to deserve being there.

They arrived at their table to find Cartman already halfway through his second taco. Butters sat next to him, working on a crossword puzzle printed on one of the restaurant’s placemats.

“Okay,” Wendy started as they took a seat. “Now that we’ve taken you to this… horrible place, can we talk business?”

“Oh, hey, Butters,” Kenny snapped to get the other blond’s attention from across the table. “Don’t listen to anything we're about to say, okay?"

“You got it!”

“Well what do you want? Are you finally buying those plants you asked me for last year?" Cartman asked through a mouth full of food.

“Not exactly…”

“We want to start selling crystal meth,” Wendy stated.

“Jesus,” Kenny hissed, looking around the restaurant to see if anyone had heard. Fortunately for them, it seemed to be deserted. The Sizzler almost seemed... too empty...

Cartman scoffed, spewing bits of food back onto his plate. “You want to what?”

“Please be quieter this time,” Kenny begged.

“We want to start selling meth, up in North Park. I thought you might be able to get us some.”

"I told her you could probably get us some," Kenny added.

“Oh, I can get you some. But why would I?" Cartman looked to Wendy. "Getting weed for Kenny is one thing, but why would I help you?”

Wendy grit her teeth and did her best not to humor the boy's mocking tone. “It would be mutually beneficial,” she began, annoyed that he was making her spell this out for him. “I know you get a percentage of our total sales. You’d get your cut of these sales too, and we’re going to be bringing in a lot more money. What’s good for us is good for you.”

Cartman sighed in boredom, as if they’d been discussing the subject for hours, rather than about a minute “How much more money?”

“I read online that independent drug dealers can make up to $40,000 a year.”

“Wait, really?” Kenny asked.

“So what," Cartman snorted condescendingly, "you got kicked out of NYU so now you’re going to become a full-time drug dealer? That's your plan B?"

“What? Is that what you think happened? Why would I have gotten kicked out of NYU?”

Bored, Cartman had started eating his tacos again. “I dunno, for bein' a bitch?”

Wendy buried her face in her hands, in an attempt to prevent herself from smacking his plate of disgusting food off the table. She looked up, staring daggers at the boy sitting across from her.

"Are you going to help us, or not.”

Cartman sighed. “Fine, I guess. Let me see what I can do." Reaching down into the backpack he’d brought with him, he pulled out a laptop and opened it up on the table. After removing his glasses from the neckline of his shirt, he returned them to his face and began typing.

“What’re you doing?” Wendy asked.

“Finding you a source. I am like, not spending time on this later.”

“Let me watch.” Wendy got up from her seat and pushed her way into the opposite booth, cramming Butters into the corner and making him break the small pencil he'd been using to fill out his crossword.

“Aw, hamburgers," he murmured. Kenny reached over to the table behind them and took a small cup of crayons that was sitting by the table's napkins, allowing Butters to take one and finish his puzzle.

“What’s this site you’re using?” Wendy asked. Cartman had navigated to a website that looked exactly like Google’s homepage – except everything was black, save for a stark white version of the search engine’s logo in a font that looked just different enough from the original to be noticeable.

“It’s Dark Google?” the boy told her, as if she should have already known. “It’s what people've been using to search for shady drug shit ever since the feds closed the Silk Road. It's like, top secret though; like you need to go to the very depths of the deep web to find out about shit like this."

Wendy narrowed her eyes as she looked at the site's web address. “What the fuck? You literally just typed in darkgoogle.com!”

Cartman scoffed. “Well would you have ever thought to do that?"

Wendy opened her mouth to say something, only to shut it in frustration. Instead of admitting that Cartman had a point, she just continued to watch him navigate the results Dark Google had turned up for “anyone selling meth?”

"Okay, here's one. Yeah, someone looking to make a bulk deal and possibly establish a selling relationship.”

“Oh shit, that's perfect.”

“It says you’d have to pick it up in person though.”

“Well where are they?”

"Uhhhh, New Mexico," Cartman read.

“New Mexico?” Kenny asked.

“Alama” Wendy specified, reading from Cartman’s screen. She took out her phone and started typing something into it. "Looks like it’s a little south of Albuquerque.”

"I dunno about going to New Mexico..." Kenny started. "That's like..."

"550 miles," Wendy looked up from her phone. "We could drive it in like ten hours."

Kenny paused. "What would we do? One day there, one day back?"

"Yeah. We could do it next weekend."

"Leave Saturday morning, drive all day, do the deal at night, then spend Sunday driving home?"

"We can totally do this." Wendy shoved Cartman's shoulder. "Set something up." The boy made a disgruntled noise and started typing.

"You really wanna go to New Mexico?" Kenny asked.

Wendy looked at him from across the table. "If you'll come with me."

Swallowing, Kenny couldn't help but smile a bit. "Well, I’ve always wanted to go on a road trip."

Cartman scoffed under his breath. "God, this is like, the dumbest thing you've ever done for pussy, dude."

"What'd you say?" Kenny asked as Wendy turned around with a glare.

"I mean I get that she's Stan's ex, which is kinda cool, I guess, and apparently getting kicked out of school drove her so crazy that there's a possibility that she actually would let you fuck her. But like, selling meth in North Park?" He let out a laugh. "How'd that work out for your brother?"

Kenny practically lunged out of his seat and would have probably tried to cross the table if Wendy hadn't gotten out of hers as well to get in his way. Cartman grinned at him from behind her.

Wendy gave Kenny a look that said "I'm really, really sorry that I can't let you beat the shit out of him for that but we need to be cool." Kenny sighed and dropped back into his seat.

"So is this all set up or what."

Cartman closed his laptop. "Everything is in place. Now if you'll excuse me..." He dismissed himself, heading back to the buffet.

Wendy clapped her hands together and looked at Kenny. "Dude! I can't believe we're doing this!"

"Yeah," Kenny said, looking out the window. "Me neither."

"Hey," she leaned over the table to get closer to him. "I know this isn't going to be easy, but we can do this... together." He looked at her. "I've got your back and you've got mine, okay?"

Kenny softened. "Yeah. Yeah, okay."

"Super best friends?" she smiled at him.

"Super best friends," he smiled back.

Wendy couldn't wipe the grin off her face. "Cool. Trust me, this is going to be a--"

“Huge mistake!” Butters chimed. Wendy and Kenny both looked at him, as did Cartman – who'd returned to the table with what looked like half-melted frozen yogurt poured over a plate of tortilla chips and chicken wings.

Butters held up the crossword he’d been working on. “I got four down!”

* * *

The following Saturday, Kenny pulled up in front of Wendy's house just as the sun was beginning to rise. Crossing her lawn, Wendy clutched her beret against the early morning wind, before reaching the passenger side of Kenny’s car and opening the door to be greeted by the pleasant warmth of artificial heat.

"Hey! You ready to do this thing?" Kenny asked as she got into the car. 

She met him with a nervous grin. "As I'll ever be! Are you sure we shouldn't take my car though? This trip's gonna be rough without an aux cord."

"If we took your car we couldn’t smoke along the way. You wanna get off the highway and find somewhere we can discretely smoke a bowl whenever we feel like getting high? There's no way we'd make it there in time."

"Ugh, I guess you're right. God, your CD player doesn't even work though."

"Oh no it's cool, I fixed that! And check this out!" Kenny reached into his backseat and retrieved a black CD binder. "Open it up," he said, passing it to Wendy.

She unzipped the case to find sleeve after sleeve filled with burned CDs, artists’ names and album titles scrawled onto them with a permanent marker.

"Oh, cool," she said to herself as she perused the titles, recognizing some of the names. "Whoa, do you have like, every Bruce Springsteen album in here?"

Kenny backed out of Wendy's driveway. "All the good ones at least. Which actually reminds me, I wanted to ask you a question."

Wendy continued looking through the CDs. "What's up?"

“Which do you like better? _Born to Run_ or _Darkness on the Edge of Town_?"

Her eyes narrowing, Wendy looked up from the CD case, taking a moment to respond. “Which do _you_ like better?” she asked cautiously.

“I mean, I really like _Darkness_. It’s got this great kinda like… low-key vibe? Like Bruce could’ve squeezed the whole E Street Band into a small room with him, and recorded the whole album in one night or something. Which is like, a crazy way to follow a record like _Born to Run_ , know what I mean?”

“I actually know exactly what you mean. But I’ll see you the atmosphere and raise you the fact that _Born to Run_ has like, the three most iconic Springsteen songs of all time on it.”

“Well yeah, it’s hard to argue with that. Hey, detour question, which of the three big songs from _Born to Run_ do you like best?”

“Oh, the title track, definitely. He says my name in it, dude.”

“Right,” Kenny laughed. “That’s what I’d say too though. In fact, I’ve always thought that ‘Born to Run’ was one of the best jobs anyone has ever done recording a song in a studio. If you know what I mean.”

 “I don’t know what you mean.”

“I mean the way they were able to… I dunno, ‘realize’ that song, the way they were able to get it to sound. It feels so… big. Monolithic, even. The whole song moves like some giant machine that would probably fall apart if Bruce didn’t somehow manage to, against all odds, have it completely under his control.”

“That’s why he’s the Boss.”

“In fact, I can only think of one song that I think was recorded better than ‘Born to Run.’”

“Which.”

“Don’t laugh at me.”

“I won’t.”

“Uh, ‘Love Shack', by the B-52s?”

Wendy snorted.

“LOOK. Have you ever listened to that song? And I don’t mean 'heard it on the radio,' I mean have you ever like, really listened to it?”

“I mean, I can’t say that I have.”

“Like, no one has. It’s become such a novelty song that nobody even appreciates what a fucking, sonic masterpiece it is, like, what an absolute powerhouse of a song.”

“Calm down, dude.”

“It’s just really something. Like it sounds like the recording studio’s about to come crashing down around them by the end of it. It’s a real marathon too, did you know it’s like almost six minutes long?”

“What? That’s definitely not true. I don’t believe that.”

“It is! But you never answered my question.”

“I told you, I’ve never ‘really listened’ to ‘Love Shack’ by the B-52s.”

“Shut up, I meant the other one.”

“Which other one.”

“ _Born to Run_ , or _Darkness on the Edge of Town_.”

Wendy took a moment to respond. “ _The River_.”

“Whaaaaat.”

“It’s my favorite. It’s the darkest.”

“You’re really gonna tell me that _The River_ is darker than an album with ‘darkness’ literally in the title.”

“Oh come on, you are not seriously going to argue with me here. I mean, ‘Independence Day’, ‘Point Blank’, ‘Stolen Car’, ’Wreck on the Highway’, ’The’ fucking ‘River’? ‘The River’ is like, the most emotionally devastating song he ever wrote.”

Stopping his car at the red light in front of the interstate on-ramp, Kenny weighed what the girl had said.

“I dunno, I’d probably say like, ‘Racing in the Street’ is the saddest Springsteen song.“

"I fucking knew you were gonna say that. Look at it this way though, okay? ‘Racing in the Street’ is about knowing that the best days of your life are behind you, right? I mean, yeah, that's a bummer. That’s pretty sad. But 'The River’ is about not even getting to have those days. It’s about having to get a job as soon as you get out of school and living the rest of your life in the same small town you were born in. It's about watching your kids grow up until they're old enough to make the same mistakes that you made and do the exact same thing. It’s about realizing that you've reached the end of your narrative; the sense of utter defeat that comes with knowing that this is it – this is all that's left. This is all there’s gonna be, forever. That's what keeps bringing the guy in the song back to the river: the aching desire to just… wash all that away.”

Unable to find the words to respond, Kenny returned his attention to the road ahead. He and Wendy sat in silence, waiting for the light to change.

Finally, Wendy spoke again, hoping to cut the tension that had resulted from her grim reflection on one of her favorite Bruce Springsteen songs.

“Is ‘Love Shack’ really six minutes long?”

“It’s like five and a half," Kenny nodded. "Long enough for them to have to edit it for the radio release, anyways.”

“How long’s that version?” Wendy asked.

Kenny looked over at her again.

“Four minutes, twenty seconds."

The light turned green. It was going to be a long trip.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope y'all don't mind I'm droppin' a two-parter on you! Chapter 11 turned out pretty long, and I think breaking it up into two smaller chunks is really going to serve the story in a neat little way. This'll be fun, trust me!!


	12. Plan B - Part 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kenny and Wendy get in over their heads. Part 2 of 2.

It was dark when they emerged from the chapel. Anxious and scared of sticking around a second longer than they had to, Wendy set a brisk pace for the car, duffel bag of crystal meth slung over her shoulder. Realizing that Kenny wasn’t behind her when she reached the car, she turned around to find that he had only managed to limp about halfway there before pausing to clutch his side and nearly fall over.

Fuck.

Tossing the duffel bag into the backseat of Kenny’s Jetta, Wendy ran back to help the boy steady himself, supporting him as they made their way to the car. After getting Kenny into the passenger seat, Wendy got behind the wheel and drove the car off into the night.

That could have gone better.

**Chapter 12: “Plan B” – Part 2**

“Well, we made it to New Mexico. Hey. Hey, wake up.”

Kenny sat up in the passenger seat. “Hey. Where are we?”

“We just crossed the state line into New Mexico.”

“Oh cool, we’re out of Colorado? Huh. That means this is the farthest I’ve ever been from South Park.”

“Whoa, really?”

“Yeah.” Kenny was quiet. “I guess in a way, that town’s all I’ve ever really known.”

Wendy fell silent, filled with a quiet despair at the very thought. But then she realized that what Kenny had said… had not been true.

“Wait a second, what? Didn’t you go to Hawaii with Butters back in elementary school? You went to Peru with Stan and Craig that one time too!”

After taking a moment to think about it, Kenny laughed. “Oh, yeah, I guess I didn’t think about that!” He let out another laugh. “Yeah, I dunno why I even said that.”

* * *

With about an hour left to go, the two switched places for a final time. Wendy scrolled around the internet on her phone in silence as Kenny watched the road and listened to the radio.

“Hey,” Wendy asked, “When’s your birthday?”

“End of February.”

“Oh damn, that’s like in a month.”

“Yeah, why?”

“I’m on this astrology website.”

“Oh, like star signs? I’m the fish one. What’s it say about that?”

“You’re a Pisces. Hang on.”

“What’s it say?”

“I’m looking, hang on. Okay.” Wendy cleared her throat. “Pisces are deeply empathetic people, often exhibiting a gentle, patient nature. They are positive and amiable, with a deep sense of kindness and compassion. Pisces are highly tuned in to everything around them, including the feelings of others. They have an uncanny sense of perceiving what a person wants or needs, and will go to great lengths to try and deliver it.” She finished reading. “Man, y’know, I don’t really believe in this stuff, but like, that does sound like you.”

Kenny considered it. “I mean, yeah, that checks out. What else does it say?”

“Well,” she continued reading, “Pisces are ‘exceptionally gifted artistically’ – which I mean like, you paint, right? – as well as loyal, family oriented, kind, and giving. They are receptive to new ideas and circumstances, and often have an uncanny ability to nurture and support – which is directly related to their powerful intuition.”

“Explains why it was so easy for you to convince me to take you under my wing, I guess. That’s all pretty flattering, though.”

“Hang on, there’s bad stuff too.” Wendy continued. “Rejection and sadness hit Pisces harder than nearly any other sign. Pisces are easily lured to drugs or alcohol for escape or distraction, and they should avoid substance abuse for many obvious reasons – but especially because of the sign’s highly addictive, compulsive nature.”

“Jeez, I wish I’d known that before I decided to be a drug dealer. What does it say about your sign?”

“Well my birthday’s only about a month later than yours, which makes me an Aries…” Wendy navigated around the astrology site on her phone. “Okay, let me see. Here.” She began reading. “As the first sign in the zodiac, the presence of an Aries always marks the beginning of something energetic and turbulent. Constantly looking for competition, Aries always has to be the first in everything. Yikes, and I thought yours was dead-on.”

“Yeah, that’s uncanny. Constantly looking for competition, always the first in everything… and what was that first part?”

“The presence of an Aries always marks the beginning of something energetic and turbulent.”

“Yeah, that’s putting it lightly.”

“What do you mean?”

“Uh, let me think, well, I used to stick to selling weed at parties but uh, then I met you, and now I’m on a road trip to New Mexico to buy crystal meth.”

“Well I guess when you uh, put it that way…”

“You kinda blew into my life like a fuckin’ tornado, dude.”

Wendy found herself glad that Kenny was too busy looking at the road to notice the blush forming on her face.

“What else does it say?” the boy asked.

Wendy looked back at her phone. “Uhhhhhh, Aries tend to live adventurous lives and like to be the center of attention – rightly so, as they are natural, confident leaders. Ha, nice. However, the sign’s confidence can all too easily give way to arrogance, as well as a proclivity to act without thinking. Too often Aries will say whatever pops into their heads, only to end up regretting it later. Okay, well, I’m starting to feel personally attacked here.”

“At least yours didn’t call you a drug addict. Hey, what’s late October? Craig’s birthday is just a few days before Halloween.”

“Oh, god, hang on. Alright, Craig is a Scorpio. Fuck, listen to this. Scorpios are known for their calm, cool, and often impenetrable demeanors – which often lend the sign an air of mystery, or intrigue.”

“You’ve gotta be fucking kidding me.”

“No, listen.” Wendy started reading. “Perhaps the most misunderstood astrological sign, Scorpios are walking contradictions. They are deep, intense people; when it comes to Scorpios, there’s always more than meets the eye. While Scorpios may come across as cool, detached, and unemotional, lurking behind the sign’s mask is an intense power and tremendous strength of will.”

“Whoa. Okay, keep going.”

“Scorpios are inquisitive in nature, so do not be surprised if they ask questions; they’re constantly trying to delve deeper, figure things out, and survey the situation. Scorpios always want to learn any detail they can possibly know, and possess keen, probing minds that allow them to do just that. Strong-willed, Scorpios tend to dominate and control anyone that lets them, or anyone that they find weak. However, the people that the sign respects and holds close are shown amazing kindness, loyalty, and devotion.”

“Tweek.”

“Thomas,” Wendy added. “Scorpios are often drawn to and find interest in the occult, the paranormal, conspiracy theories, and other types of similar unknown mysteries. Highly capable of hiding their true feelings and motivations, Scorpios often have ulterior motives, or hidden agendas.”

Kenny let out a laugh. “Well… that’s Craig Tucker, ladies and gentlemen.”

“Jeez, is it really?”

“It’s as accurate as ours were, at least.”

“I mean, I really don’t know him as well as you do. Man, this is interesting though.” Wendy continued to read. “Although it can sometimes be hard for Scorpios to accept it, their greatest strength is their sensitivity. While many Scorpios hide from their own emotions – not knowing what to do with their own intensity and depth – when they find a channel through which they can properly express themselves, they can be capable of creating works of unparalleled beauty and profound meaning.”

Kenny was silent for a moment. “Have I ever told you about the films Craig makes?”

“What? No?”

“I’ll have to. Sometime.”

* * *

 The sun was just beginning to set when Kenny and Wendy reached their destination. Following the directions they’d been provided, their car finally pulled up to a small structure located a good fifteen or twenty miles away from civilization. The building was an old, decrepit little roadside chapel, its white wooden panels stained grey by years of dust storms.

"Well this is... ominous," Wendy said, getting out of the car. Tucked under her arm was a large manila envelope, filled with the money for the deal. “What is this, some kind of drug dealer power play or something?”

"I dunno. Did their ad not mention anything about meeting in a spooky abandoned church?"

They walked up the front steps. "I dunno if it's abandoned, but there definitely doesn't seem to be anyone around right now. We'd see their car, right?"

"I guess we got here first."

"Should we go in?"

"Is it open?"

Wendy took the door by its handle. It was.

Stepping inside, the two found that the chapel was indeed empty. The last remains of daylight passed through the building's stained glass windows, brightening the interior just enough for them to be able to see.

They walked towards the back of the small building, moving past a few rows of pews and up to a makeshift altar, decorative candles resting atop a dusty white cloth. Beside it stood a pulpit, which was also covered in a thick layer of dust. It appeared that no one had made use of the building in quite some time.

Once inside, the two could do nothing but wait for the other dealers they were supposed to be meeting. Wendy took a seat on top of the altar, before taking out her lighter and using it to light a few of the candles, illuminating the chapel as it grew darker. Kenny began pacing the room. He hoped that Wendy wouldn’t notice how nervous he was.

“You’re pacing,” Wendy noticed. “Are you nervous?”

“Uh, yeah; believe it or not, I’ve never done a meth deal before.”

“What’s the worst that could happen?”

“Are you serious?”

“Come on dude, we’ve got this. It’s gonna be fine.”

“Y’know, I feel like you’re not taking this as seriously as you should be.”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean we’re about to buy crystal meth. From crystal meth dealers.”

“I think you’re being dramatic.”

“Uh, why? You’ve never actually gone on like, a real drug deal, dude.”

“Well what’re they like?”

“I dunno. Weird. Uncomfortable. Anxiety-inducing. Just like… promise me you’ll be cool, okay?”

“What do you mean.”

“Like, I dunno, whatever happens? Just go with it. I feel like these guys might try and renegotiate terms on the spot or something. I mean, if the whole chapel thing is any indication, I’d say they’re already trying to psyche us out. Let’s just do what they say, get the stuff, and get out of here. I don’t want any trouble.”

“Look, it’ll be fine, okay? Believe me, I want this to go as smoothly as possible.

“And it will, as long as we just--"

The chapel doors opened, and in walked a dark-haired woman, cloaked in a black trench coat. She was probably around Wendy’s height, but the heels of her boots must have made her almost as tall as Kenny. She was followed by a man larger than any of them, wearing mirrored sunglasses and a dark suit. The woman was wearing sunglasses as well – large black circles that obscured nearly half her face. The two of them stood in the entry-way of the chapel, staring at Kenny and Wendy, who stared back. The woman turned to the man behind her, who seemed to be some kind of assistant or bodyguard.

“What the fuck,” they could just hear her say. “Did we know they were gonna be like… kids?”

Her assistant just shrugged. Wendy noticed that he had a duffel bag slung over his shoulder.

“Excuse me!” she called over to the other side of the chapel. The woman turned back around to face her. Uh, shit. Now that she’d gotten her attention, Wendy didn’t know what to do with it. She nudged Kenny. “Say something.”

Kenny swallowed. “Uh, hi! We’re the dealers from Colorado? The ones interested in the arrangement you advertised! We’ve brought the agreed-upon payment, so if you’ve got the product on hand, we’d love to just uh, make this trade off so that we don’t need to take up any more of your time!”

The woman seemed unimpressed. She removed a smartphone from her coat pocket and glanced at it. “You’re the two who work for mister… uh,” she turned to her guard. “What was it? I wanna say ‘Crapman’ but that can’t be it, right?”

Wendy could have groaned. “Cartman, and we work _with_ him,” she clarified. “He’s the one who contacted you for us. We’re here with the payment, and to pick up what we’ve purchased.”

The woman took another look at her phone before returning it to her pocket. “Hey, as long as you’ve got the money. That it?” she gestured to the envelope Wendy was holding. The girl nodded.

“Go get it,” the woman said to her assistant, who carried the duffel bag over to them. “Inside this bag’s twelve kilos, cut and poly-bagged like we arranged. Pretty pure shit, too.”

Wendy’s eyes narrowed. “Wait, twelve? That’s less than we agreed on.”

A lump formed in Kenny’s throat. Fuck.

“We said fifteen,” Wendy continued. “Where’s the rest of it?”

 “We hold on to that for now,” the woman answered. “If you choose to do business with us again, you’ll receive it for free when you come to pick up your next order.”

“What? How is it for free if we’re paying you for it now? That’s not what we agreed on.”

“Welllll, we’ve found that this method tends to incentivize repeat customers.”

Wendy scoffed. “I’m not paying you the full price if you’re not going to give me everything you said you would.”

“Wendy,” Kenny said to her quietly.

“We will. Once we know that you’re interested in future business.”

“That wasn’t part of our agreement. I’m only paying you for what we’re getting.”

“Dude,” Kenny hissed at her.

“I don’t appreciate having my time wasted,” the woman warned.

“Neither do I. So I’m only paying you for what we’re getting,” Wendy insisted, trying to hold her ground.

“Dude. Dude. Dude. Dude.” Kenny kept repeating, trying to get her to stop.

“What!” Wendy finally snapped at him. She turned to find the boy staring at her with a desperate look in his eye.

“What are you doing?” he asked.

“What am I doing? Not letting us get taken advantage of by these Scarface wannabes!”

“Scarface sold coke,” the woman said. She snapped her fingers and her assistant dropped the bag at his side, before taking a few menacing steps towards Wendy. Kenny rushed to block his path, getting in between the two of them as quickly as he could. He smiled at the guard in a nervous attempt to defuse the situation.

“Hey buddy, how about--"

The guard punched Kenny square across the face, sending him sprawling to the ground. With a groan, Kenny looked up to find the man standing over him.

“I’m not your buddy, guy.”

His head spinning, Kenny struggled to get up on his hands and knees. The guard looked to the woman as he did so, awaiting further instruction.

“I mean, do whatever you want,” she told him.

“Hey, wait!” Wendy tried to protest.

But the man didn’t. Instead, he kicked Kenny straight in the ribs. The boy cried out in pain as his body dropped back to the ground.

Wendy shrieked, horrified. “Kenny!"

After dropping Kenny to the floor, the guard continued his assault, landing another kick right in his stomach. Kenny did his best to shield his head, but the woman’s assistant rained down blows on the rest of his body until the boy felt like he was going to black out.

Wendy could do nothing but watch in terror. “Stop it!” she screamed at the guard as he continued his assault. He didn’t. She turned to the woman. “Make him stop!”

She didn’t.

“Make him stop!” Wendy yelled again, growing more and more desperate. “Please!”

Still the woman did nothing. She just looked at Wendy as her assistant continued to beat Kenny on the ground, the boy’s cries of pain echoing around the chapel’s high ceilings. The panic gripping Wendy was almost enough to drive the girl to tears. They were going to kill him, they were going to kill him, this guy was going to fucking beat Kenny to death and it was going to be her fault. Her fucking fault, it was going to be her fault. Fuck, what had she been thinking, what was she doing? How could she let this happen, how could she do this to him? She had to stop this; how could she stop this?

Wendy could do nothing but beg. “Please, make him stop! Make him stop! I’ll take the drugs, I’ll pay whatever you want, please, just make him stop!”

The woman sighed. “Okay,” she said, sounding a little disappointed. Her assistant kicked Kenny in the stomach one last time. “Enough.” Finally, the guard stopped, looking down at the boy groaning and wheezing and quivering at his feet. After taking a moment to straighten his tie, he picked the bag of meth back up and brought it over to Wendy, dropping it at her feet. He outstretched his hand, taking the envelope of cash as the girl passed it to him.

“Sorry I had to beat the shit out of your friend,” he told her. “I think it’d probably be a good idea if you two got outta here.”

Shaken and unsure of how to respond, Wendy took the bag and hurried over to Kenny, helping him to his feet and propping him up as they made a hasty retreat out of the chapel.

* * *

The silence in the car was deafening. Kenny leaned his head against the passenger-side window, body aching as Wendy drove in search of somewhere they could stay the night. Neither of them said a word. They were both just quiet, for a long time. Then Kenny spoke.

“Kevin didn’t actually overdose on meth.”

The silence broken, Wendy's head turned towards him, only to find the boy still facing away from her, looking out the window. She looked back at the road, making sure to keep one eye on the boy beside her. He didn’t say anything else, though. He just stayed quiet.

“What?” she couldn’t help but finally ask.

It took him a moment to respond, but Kenny started speaking to the window again. “After he died, word got around that he overdosed on meth. I guess people just thought that because everyone knew he sold it up in North Park. Rumors like that travel fast. South Park’s a small town. You know.”

More silence. “Right. Yeah. I remember.”

“He didn’t really do meth though, he just sold it.”

More silence. Wendy couldn’t take it anymore.

“So how did he die?”

Kenny was quiet for one more moment.

“He was stabbed up in North Park, by someone he was selling to.”

Wendy couldn’t even begin to respond. Mind reeling, her gaze returned to the road ahead of her, spotting a sign for a motel a few miles up ahead.

“There’s a place,” she said under her breath, turning on her blinker and switching lanes towards the freeway’s exit.

* * *

 The two were still silent as they made their way into their motel room. Kenny dropped his backpack beside one of the two beds inside. Wendy kept hers over her shoulder as she walked to the bathroom.

“I’m gonna get changed for bed.”

After using the bathroom and washing her face, Wendy opened her backpack to remove her pajamas. She pulled out a black t-shirt she’d packed, only to find that it was inside out. Upon reversing it, she found herself wishing that she’d paid a little more attention when selecting her sleepwear.

She emerged from the bathroom to find that Kenny had changed clothes as well. He looked at her as she stood in the bathroom doorway – specifically, at the t-shirt she was wearing.

“I’m surprised you still have that thing.”

Avoiding his gaze, Wendy left her folded clothes on a couch in the corner of the room and walked over to the bed that Kenny wasn’t currently sitting on.

“Why wouldn’t I?” she asked quietly. Then she got in bed. After turning off the light on the nightstand between them, Kenny did the same.

Half an hour later, he still hadn’t managed to fall asleep. Laying still in the darkness, he heard Wendy get out of her bed and walk over to the couch, pulling on her coat and picking up her bag.

“Where are you going?” he asked through the dark.

“Nowhere. I can’t sleep. I’m gonna go smoke a bowl in the car.”

“Okay.”

* * *

Wendy packed a bowl as she waited for Kenny’s car to heat up. She took her first hit, holding it in for about half a minute before filling the car with smoke. Turning on the radio, she flipped through a few channels of static until she found a clear station. On it played a gentle, steel guitar-driven surf rock ballad, which she vaguely recognized as some song by some band from the 50s. Listening, Wendy let out a small dry laugh. The song had no words, but something about the wistfully melancholic nature of its sound somehow managed to capture exactly how she was feeling at that moment. Lost.

Resigning herself to the irony, Wendy took another hit as the tune continued to play. She sank into her seat, already beginning to feel the effects of the pot. God, what a fucking day.

Her thoughts turned to Kenny, probably asleep in their room. Fuck. How could she have let that happen to him? She couldn't stop replaying it all in her head. Kenny curled up on the ground, screaming as that guy beat him senseless; and she hadn't been able to do anything – nothing but stand there and watch, hopelessly begging the other dealer to put a stop to the whole thing. Fuck, though... what if she hadn't?

If the other dealer hadn't called her guard off, Kenny would have died. Wendy was so sure that they would have had no problem killing him, or at least leaving him there to die. She was sure of it. I mean, drug dealers do that kinda shit, right? Fuck. Kenny had tried to warn her too, that’s what really made her feel the worst. Why hadn't she listened? She was the one who fucked up, but it was Kenny who paid the price for it. Some fucking super best friend she had turned out to be.

Wendy lost track of how much she was smoking as she continued to replay the events of the day in her head and chastise herself for how badly she'd let things go. She remembered the desperation in his eyes as he begged her to stop trying to argue with the other dealer. She’d been too stubborn for it to occur to her in the moment, but now she realized how worried about her he must have been. Of course that's why he'd been so afraid of her mouthing off. God, couldn't she have spared him the same amount of concern before deciding to act like an idiot? Didn't she care about him? Wasn't he special to her? Fuck, wasn't she basically in fucking--"

Wendy clasped her proverbial hands over her proverbial mouth to prevent herself from completing her thought. Her eyes narrowed slowly, a frustrated expression forming on her face. She lit her pipe again and inhaled another hit as the song on the radio ended, the steel guitar leaving her in silence with one last wobbly cry.

Shit.

* * *

Kenny was still awake when Wendy returned. He listened to her move around in the darkness until he realized she wasn’t getting into her bed. Instead, he felt her lift his sheets and slide into bed behind him. Her arms wrapped around him as she pulled herself close and spooned him. Kenny didn’t move. He was just able to detect her scent under the smell of pot.

“What’re you doing?” he asked.

“I dunno,” she whispered.

They lay there quietly, neither saying anything for quite some time.

“I’m really sorry,” Wendy finally broke the silence.

“It’s okay. It’s not your fault.”

“I wouldn’t have done anything if I’d known you would’ve gotten hurt. I’m… I’m really sorry you got hurt.”

“It’s okay. I’m used to it.”

“What?”

“I dunno. I always get hurt.”

“What do you mean?”

“I dunno. I mean like, ever since I was a kid. Me and Stan, and, y’know, all of us, we’d do stupid shit like all the time. A lot of it was dangerous, and, I dunno. I was always the one who got hurt.”

Wendy held him tighter.

“I’m not going to let anything like that happen to you again,” she told him.

“Wendy,” he said quietly.

“I mean it,” she insisted. “I’m not going to let anything happen to you, or what… what happened to your brother. I’m sorry I didn’t, I couldn’t, I promise, I’m--"

“Wendy.”

“I mean it!” she gripped him. He felt her head between his shoulder blades. “I mean it. You’d know how much I mean it if you knew how scared I got when they started hurting you, how it made me feel, how scared I was of… losing you, I don’t know. I was thinking about it in the car just now. I don’t know, I was so scared, it seemed so… real, and it was my fault, it was my fault, everything that happened, what they did to you, anything else they could’ve done, it would have been my fault, and I don’t… it didn’t seem like they were going to stop, and I don’t know what I would’ve done if I’d lost you, I just, I don’t know, I was just thinking about it in the car, how I would feel, and how much I would regret all this time I’ve spent pretending that I… pretending that I'm not totally fucking in love with you.”

Kenny didn't say anything. Her arms still around him, he rolled over to face her before finally responding. “I’m really tired of pretending.”

Wendy was too, so she kissed him. Their bodies tangling together, it only took a few brief moments of their hands running over each other before Kenny hooked his thumbs into her waistline and started to tug.

"Please," she panted against his lips, helping him remove their bottoms. Once they were both out of them, he gripped her by her body and aligned his cock with her entrance, pushing in and sheathing himself inside her. Wendy moaned as he buried his entire length with a single thrust, opening her up and taking her raw for the first time. Fuck, she shivered against him, clinging to his body as they waited for the initial pain to subside. It felt so good for there to finally be nothing between them.

It felt even better when the boy started to move, holding her body still and pumping his cock in and out of her. "Fuck," she panted, "Kenny, don't stop." They may have been too tired to move with much vigor, but what their sex lacked in speed it made up for in a quiet intensity that neither had experienced with each other before – a mutual, urgent need to be as close to each other as possible at that moment, as if their very existence was tied to their union.

Their breathy moans filled the room as their bodies moved together, Kenny shifting on top of Wendy and spreading her legs to fuck her from above before their lips came together once more. With her legs spread, Kenny's cock was hitting Wendy so deep that she could practically feel it in her stomach. He fucked her slow, hard, and deliberately, each thrust of his cock threatening to reach her cervix. She swore it actually could – at least if the erotic pain that jolted through her body and made her see stars whenever he buried himself especially deep was any indication. Drunk on the pleasure, she clawed at the boy's back and wrapped around him as he bucked into her at a slow and steady pace, driving his cock towards her womb.

A particularly forceful thrust stirred her from her blissful surrender and popped an idea into her head. "Hey," Wendy gasped up at him as he fucked her. Failing to get his attention, she tried again. "Hey..." This time it worked, his eyes finding hers as he kept filling her.

“What?”

"I want you to cum in me."

The boy let out a shocked laugh. "W-what?" he asked, without stopping his movement.

"I said I want you to cum in me..."

Kenny couldn't think of how to answer. All he could do was pant as he continued to fuck her. Still, he looked unsure.

Wendy kissed him again. "You wanna... don't you?"

"I-I mean, yeah! But..." he laughed nervously, his thrusts slowing. "We totally shouldn't..."

"No, we shouldn't. But we shouldn't be in a motel in New Mexico with a bag full of crystal meth right now either. I shouldn't even have started selling drugs with you after I stopped going to school. But I fucking love doing things that I shouldn't do with you. I never did anything I shouldn't have done before I met you. You make me wanna do everything that I know I shouldn't, that I'm not supposed to do; and I wanna do it all with you.

Kenny swallowed, unable to find the words to respond.

“So what do you say?” she asked the boy. “Cum for me?”

Kenny answered her with a kiss, and Wendy could tell from the new resolve that he began to fuck her with that he was trying to finish. She was right alongside him, too – a few more pumps of his cock were all that it took for Wendy to come undone, gasping and trembling as her body was racked by one of the most powerful orgasms she'd ever had. As she climaxed, Kenny buried himself deep inside her with one final thrust, grunting as he filled her with cum, his seed flooding her womb.

Exhausted, Kenny collapsed on top of the girl. They were both too spent to move, or even look at each other. They just lay there, trying to catch their breath. Wendy panted up at the ceiling, while Kenny slowly rolled off of her and onto the bed beside her. As they recovered, a warm, blissful afterglow began to creep over them; their heads turned to face each other, their gazes meeting as if they were seeing each other in a new light for the very first time. They said nothing, but their smiles asked a question.

“Are we really doing this?”

* * *

About half an hour later, Kenny and Wendy found themselves in the family planning aisle of the first pharmacy they'd been able to find that was still open. Huddled together close, they scanned the aisle’s shelves.

"I'm telling you dude, you gotta go ask for it at the counter."

"Why me, why do I have to ask?"

Wendy got as close to Kenny as she could and whispered in his ear. "Because you're the one whose cum is probably turning into a fetus inside me right now..."

"Oh my god, oh my god, oh my god," Kenny murmured as he walked over to the pharmacy counter. Snickering wickedly, Wendy followed close behind him.

Approaching the counter, the two realized that the pharmacist behind it had probably been watching them for the past few minutes.

"Hey," Kenny started awkwardly. "We're uhhh, looking forrrrrr..."

The pharmacist gave them a dull look before finishing Kenny’s sentence.

“Plan B.”

Kenny and Wendy smiled sheepishly at the pharmacist before he turned around and slowly retreated into the back of the store. The two stood in silence as they waited for him to return. Kenny eyed the refrigerated case of beverages on the wall next to the pharmacy counter.

“Hey. You want anything?” he asked Wendy quietly. He gestured towards the case of drinks. “You want uh, you want a Yoo-Hoo? I’m gonna get a Yoo-Hoo.”

Amused, Wendy smiled at him, clearly seeing through his attempt to break the tension. “Nah. I’m good.”

After they’d paid, they began slowly making their way back to the entrance, wandering past the store's selection of healthcare products and tacky gifts as music played softly from the PA system overhead. Kenny uncapped his Yoo-Hoo and took a sip as they walked down the store's greeting card aisle and stopped to look for any particularly dumb ones that they could laugh at together.

While they were looking, the song that had been coming from the store's overhead speakers came to an end, only for another to start playing. A sense of surprise slowly dawned on Wendy as she heard the song's opening chords. Lifting her head, she surveyed the ceiling to find one of the speakers playing the same gentle surf rock tune that she'd heard on the radio while hotboxing Kenny's car earlier that night. She closed her eyes and listened to the song's sleepy slide guitar. A small smile beginning to form on her face, she leaned against the boy standing next to her. It was hard to feel lost when he was right there.

Her eyes opened back up as she felt Kenny take another drink. She nudged him as he brought the bottle to his lips.

"Hey,” she whispered to him. “Lemme have a sip of your Yoo-Hoo.”

“Oh my god,” the boy replied quietly. “I asked if you wanted one.”

Grinning, Wendy kept her voice low. “I just wanna sip of yours. Just one."

Kenny narrowed his eyes at her. “You’re so fucking annoying,” he teased as he finally passed her the bottle. A satisfied smirk on her face, Wendy gulped down nearly half the drink. Kenny scoffed in disbelief. “Oh my god, that was not a sip.”

“Shhhhh,” Wendy whispered as she put the bottle back into his hands. “I love you.”

Kenny sighed and let out a small laugh. “I love you too.”

Their hands slipped into each other’s as they walked back to the car.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, this seems like a good place to go over a few points of order:
> 
> 1\. I hope you guys dug this whole "two-parter" thing. As of now, I don't have another two-parter planned for the future, but we'll see how things play out. Season 2 still kind of shifts around in my head from time to time, so I'm not exactly sure how the remaining chapters of the fic are going to be structured. I'd say we have about three or four more "episodes" to get through before we're done, as well as a post-season "outro" that I'm thinking will serve as the ending.
> 
> 2\. If you're curious about the 50's surf rock song that features prominently in this chapter, it's called "Sleepwalk" by Santo and Johnny.
> 
> 3\. Even if you know your partner very well and are planning on using some kind of contraceptive, unprotected sex - much like buying crystal meth in New Mexico - is not something you should engage in flippantly.
> 
> 4\. I know the astrological signs and birthdays I assigned to Kenny and Wendy aren't "canon-compliant" with what their birth dates are referenced as being in the show, but hey, who cares, this is how I write them. I'm pretty sure Craig canonically IS a Scorpio though, so that's fun. Also, this is dumb but okay I watched an episode of the show with Karen in it for the first time in like, forever, and I totally forgot that she isn't blonde like her brother. You guys mind if I just run with that though? I'm just gonna run with it. Karen's blonde in the Pink Lemonade-verse.
> 
> 5\. Next chapter up soon! It feels great to have reached what feels like such a pivotal moment in the story - I'd say we're getting pretty close to entering end-game territory. Please feel free to leave a review to let me know what you think of everything that's going on, I really love hearing from you guys! Thanks!!


	13. Take Your Time / Close to Me

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kenny and Wendy play house.

"So are you gonna... invite me in... or what?"

Wendy giggled against Kenny's lips, amused by how he'd spoken against hers between their kisses. She decided to do the same as she answered.

"As much as I'd," kiss, "enjoy taking things somewhere," kiss, "more comfortable than," kiss, "the backseat of your carrrrrr..." She drew her face away from his ever so slightly. "It's three in the morning and my parents are in there sleeping."

She could see Kenny roll his eyes through the darkness. "Soooooo?"

"Sooooo," Wendy lowered her voice. "I dunno if I'd be able to keep quiet."

Kiss kiss kiss.

"Well at least let me keep you for one more bowl."

"If you insiiiiiiist..." she replied, a teasing lilt in her tone. Kenny withdrew his hand from inside her panties and retrieved their pipe as Wendy buttoned her jeans. Snuggling up against him, the girl let her eyes close, the dim sounds of the radio and the cozy warmth of the heated car practically lulling her to sleep. Beside her, Kenny repacked the pipe for the.... third? time since they'd pulled up in front of her house an hour ago.

Just like their trip to New Mexico, it'd taken them a whole day of non-stop driving to get back to South Park. On the way home, they'd smoked through more weed than they'd bothered to keep track of. Fortunately, there was still enough left for a few nightcaps by the time they'd pulled up in front of Wendy's house around two a.m. – the perfect excuse for them to spend juuuuuust a little more time together. Sure, it may have been a school night, but Wendy figured there were worse things to lose sleep over. At least getting high and getting fingered in the backseat of your new boyfriend's car beats transcribing mysterious flashing lights into Morse Code, right?

Whoa. Wait. Hang on. Had she just referred to Kenny as her boyfriend? Like, in her head just then? Was that what he was now? Like, technically? Hm. That was a talk they hadn't had yet. Shoot. Did they need to? They didn't really need to, did they? Ugh, no, they totally did. There'd been enough ambiguity in their relationship already, and Wendy wasn't interested in having to navigate through that kinda shit any more. So, biting the bullet, she decided to just bring it up.

"Hey, so, uh... I know we both ended up crying the last time we tried to talk about this but, uh... labels?"

Kenny was taking the first hit from the bowl he'd packed when she'd gotten his attention. "Hm?" he hummed at her as he held in the smoke he'd inhaled. Finally, he let it out. "Oh, you mean like..."

Wendy gestured back and forth between the two of them with one of her fingers. "Yeah."

"Right. Uh... wellllllll..." Kenny's voice trailed off as he passed her the pipe. God, she had to do everything.

"Welllllll, I totally just referred to you as my boyfriend in my head just now." Wendy took a hit. "By accident."

"Huh. I've never actually been anyone's boyfriend before. Accidentally or otherwise.

"Well... wanna be mine?"

Kenny took a moment to respond. “Yeah,” he answered, smiling at her.

"Okay," Wendy said softly as she leaned in to kiss him. "Cool," she whispered, her lips still against his.

"Cool," he repeated.

Her face still close, Wendy smirked at him. "Guess you can't say you've never actually had a girlfriend anymore, huh?"

Kenny shoved her playfully. "Guess not. Are you worried about what our friends are gonna think?"

"I mean, Bebe's probably already sensed a disturbance in the force. Are you gonna tell Craig?"

"Ha. I doubt I'm even going to need to. What about everyone else we went to school with? I don't think any of them would expect us to end up dating. They're gonna talk."

"Eh, let 'em. So many people talked about me and Stan when we broke up that I'm seriously over that shit. Honestly, I'm concerned less with what people are gonna think of our relationship and more with how we're supposed to explain how it happened. We can't exactly tell people we fell in love selling drugs with each other."

Kenny yawned. "Well, there's plenty of time for us to think of something. We've got like what, four months before everyone comes home from school?"

Wendy yawned too. "Ha, I think I'm gonna need that time just to even process the fact that we're dating. I can't fucking believe I wound up in the alternate universe I dreamt up while searching for you at Ike's party half a year ago."

"What?"

"Nothing," Wendy smirked to herself before turning her smile towards Kenny. "It's just really cool that we're dating."

"Cool enough to invite me up to your room?" Kenny grinned as he inched closer to her.

"It's waaaaaay too late," Wendy whispered as she leaned in to kiss him again. "Howeverrrr... my folks are actually going out of town next weekend, so you can come over then." After giving him another kiss, her voice took on a mocking tone. "I mean, if you're really that interested in fucking me in the bed I've slept in since I was a little girl."

Kenny realized that he was being teased, but didn't take the bait. "Well if they're gonna be out of town, why not in your parents' bed?"

The girl cocked an eyebrow. "Why not both?"

"I love you."

"I love you."

**Chapter 13 – Take Your Time / Close to Me**

"So are you a goth, now, then."

"No! Dude! I just… asked you what your favorite Cure album is."

"Yeah, because you're trying to learn how to be a better goth."

"Look, I just need to like... impress Firkle's friends, okay?"

Kenny scoffed. "What, do they not approve of their friend dating a normie?" He looked up from his easel to see Karen scowling at him. "Hey, I told you not to move."

Still glaring, Karen returned to the pose she'd been holding as her brother painted her portrait, stepping one foot back up on top of the stack of books on the floor that elevated one of her knees. Leaning forward, she rested her forearm on her bent knee, like a conquering war hero surveying a field of her slain enemies. Kenny sat on her bed, studying her profile before turning his attention back to his canvas.

"I really don't care that you're dating Firkle anymore, by the way," he continued.

"Well…” Karen replied through gritted teeth, remaining still. “As happy as I am to hear that… I'm still not dating Firkle."

"It's fine, really, I've made peace with it. Just tell me you're not going to start dressing like one of them."

"Ehhh, I don't think so... I have been thinking of dying my hair black, though."

Kenny's eyes rolled up to look up at his bangs. He sighed. "It is then that I will have truly lost you."

"You didn't answer my question, though. What's your favorite Cure album?"

" _The Head on the Door_."

"What? That's like not even one of the big ones."

"What're the big ones."

" _Disintegration_ and _Kiss Me Kiss Me Kiss Me_."

"Right. _Disintegration_ was Stan's favorite."

" _Kiss Me_ is my favorite."

"Which one do Firkle and his friends like best?"

"Uh... _Pornography_."

"Ugh, that's one of those early ones right? Of course that's their favorite."

"I've been trying to listen to it more to see if I can get into it but it's just soooo... bleh."

"You're either born a goth or you ain't, kid." Kenny put the final touches on his painting and set down his brush. "The real question is: what’s the right way to pronounce the name of the second Joy Division album?"

Karen walked over to take a look at Kenny's finished painting. "I still haven't heard that one. Are you doing anything this weekend? We could listen to it together." She sat next to Kenny on her bed, both of them studying the canvas.

"I'm busy like all weekend," he told her, still looking at his work. "What do you think?" He'd begun by laying down a thick blue background, before adding sporadic strokes of bright yellows until it looked like a can of paint had exploded against it. On top of that, he’d added globs of goldenrod so thick that they protruded from the canvas, giving the piece a greater sense of texture and depth. The end result was an abstract attack on the senses, the latest in a series of more esoteric work that Kenny had found himself interested in exploring as of late.

"It looks nothing like me."

"You don't think so?"

The girl squinted at the painting and took another moment to scrutinize it.

"Yeah, not seein' it. What're you doing this weekend though? Do you have a date with Craig?"

Kenny began to gather his things. "Yeah, I have a date with Craig. We're going on a romantic hike up in North Park. His family's out of town too so after that we're gonna hole-up at his place and play house like we're married or something."

"Can I be your best man when you get married."

"No, you gotta be the one who gives me away."

"Fair," Karen nodded as she walked Kenny to the front door. "What're you actually doing though? You were M.I.A. all last weekend too."

"Eh, I've just been picking up some extra shifts at Hatty's. It's kinda sucked but I think I'll be getting like, a fat paycheck this weekend at least. Which, uh, actually reminds me..."

"What's up?" Karen asked as her brother took out his wallet. Opening it up, he took out a debit card and handed it to her.

"I opened up like, a savings account for you. I know things have been kinda dicey around here lately and I just wanted you to have some kind of like... safety net in case anything happens and you can't stay here anymore."

Karen read her name on the small plastic card. "I always thought that if anything happened I could just, like, come live with you or something."

"Yeah, but I dunno... what if I wasn't around?"

"Are you going somewhere?” Karen asked, confused. Her eyes widened. “Holy shit, you and Craig aren’t actually going to like, elope or something, are you? I thought you told me he was dating that jittery barista you went to school with?”

Kenny snorted. “Dude, no, I just... want you to have something in case of like, an emergency. I worry about you, you know? And I worry about not being able to be there if shit hits the fan. So if you ever need to get out of here and I'm not around, this should be enough for you to be able to take care of yourself for a little bit. There's like a couple thousand dollars in there and I'm gonna try to keep putting more in."

"A couple thousand? Don't like, you need this money?"

"I told you, I've been busting my ass at Hatty's. Look, just take it okay? Pin number's Kevin's birthday."

"Okay, well, I won't use it unless there's an emergency. Thanks, though..." Karen smiled at him in appreciation. "You're like, a really good brother, dude."

Kenny smiled back at her. "Thanks."

"I still don't get your art, though."

* * *

"I've just been drawing inspiration from a lot of different places lately, you know? Like I feel like right now, I wanna be making stuff that's like, Van Gogh painting Matisse."

"I gotta be honest," Wendy replied, "I dunno shit about art. You should paint me sometime, though.”

“I’ve been told I’m not exactly good at portraits.”

“Hey, are you nervous?"

"Yes I'm nervous, we're about to sell crystal meth for the first time."

Kenny and Wendy sat parked in front of a motel in North Park – the site of the first deal Wendy had arranged for them that Saturday.

"How'd you set this thing up again?"

"I used that Dark Google thing Cartman showed us. It’s basically like Craigslist for drugs and shit. You would not believe how desperate for this stuff people are up here, either. I was able to set up like eight deals this afternoon alone."

"Jeez, eight? We're gonna be driving around North Park all day."

"Yeeaaaah, but... afterwards we can go back to my place and you can fuck me in every room in the house."

"That's a good but."

" _You've_ got a good butt, and the quicker we get through this, the sooner I get to see it."

"Did you actually just say that."

"Listen, I'm just saying, let's get started."

Kenny looked out the window at the motel.

"Okay, yeah, let's do it."

Exiting the car, the two made their way across the parking lot and up a set of stairs that led to the motel's second level of rooms. After finding the room they were looking for, Wendy checked her phone to make sure they had the right one. But instead of knocking on the door, the two just looked at each other, clearly nervous and still shaken from the last deal they'd done in New Mexico. What Wendy had recently learned of Kenny's brother wasn't doing a lot to help put her nerves at ease, either. She was even more worried about Kenny than herself, though, considering he was the one who'd come out of their last deal the worse for wear.

"Hey," Wendy said quietly. "Are you gonna be okay? I know last time was..."

"No, yeah, I know. I'm good, though, I think."

"Alright. I promise I won't do anything stupid this time. No matter what. I mean it."

"It's cool, dude, really. Let's just... get through this."

With that, Wendy knocked on the door. They waited for a moment before they heard it unlock, opening just enough for the room's occupant to squeeze his torso out the side. The man was tall and lean, with blotchy skin and about three days’ worth of facial hair, dressed in a ratty t-shirt. Looking nervous, he ran a hand through his unwashed hair.

"Hey, uh, can I help you guys?"

"Hey, uh, Dan?" Wendy asked. She pulled out a small brown paper bag from her coat pocket. "I think we've been talking online."

The man's face lit up as he relaxed and let the door open enough for them to see into the room, the smell of pot and god knows what else wafting from within. Looking past Dan – if that was his real name – the two could see what they both imagined could have easily been a prostitute lounging on the bed.

"Yo!" Dan called back to her. "Time to party! Oh, hey, I should payyyyyyy you two, yeah?" He went into his wallet and removed some bills, absentmindedly handing them to Wendy in exchange for the brown paper bag. Opening it up, he removed a small baggie of crystal meth, before tossing it up and catching it in his hand in satisfaction. He turned his attention back to Kenny and Wendy. "Hey, you guys wanna come in for a minute? I got another friend coming over and I think things are gonna get prrrrretty crazy."

The two didn't need to check with each other to know that the answer was a resounding no. Still, both were hesitant to turn down the man's hospitality, afraid of what he might do were he to take offense. God, they really didn't have time for this though. Fuck, what's the worst that could happen if they just tried to split? They just had to be polite about it, right?

"Uhhhhh," Wendy started, "That's super kind of you to offer, but we're actually reallllllly busy today; like, we've got a lot of stuff to move, you know?" She winked, laughing nervously.

To their relief, Dan had no problem with letting them go. "Oh, of course! I wouldn't wanna keep you. I'm sure you're both busy people. God, I am like, so sorry that I even asked; that's embarrassing!"

"Nah, it's totally cool!" Kenny said, trying to get them out of there. They started to back away. "Just, uh, enjoy that stuff dude!"

"Oh, I am gonna!" Dan called after them as they made their way back to the stairs. "Hey, and I'll hit you up next time I'm in the market too!"

Wendy turned around and gave him a final nervous wave. "Okay! Thanks!"

They were both quiet as they walked back to the car, practically in a daze, neither saying anything to each other until they'd gotten back inside. Wendy started the engine as they sat in silence, before Kenny looked over at her.

"Was that like… really easy?"

Wendy was staring at the cash in her hand, almost in disbelief. "Yeah... and look how much money he gave me..."

Kenny took the bills from her hand. "Holy shit. How much did he buy?"

"Like... not even that much honestly? No more than anyone else we're selling to today is getting, at least."

"And you said we're doing like, seven more deals?"

Wendy did the math in her head instantly, quickly arriving at the sum of money they stood to make by the end of the day.

"Yeah. Yeah, I did say that."

* * *

“I can’t believe how much money we made today,” Kenny said to Wendy as the girl let them into her house later that evening. As Kenny had expected, it’d taken them the better part of the day to trek around North Park completing all the deals Wendy had lined up, but it’d been such a productive afternoon that the two could feel nothing but victorious.

“I can’t believe every deal was as easy as the first,” Wendy replied, hanging up her coat. “I mean, we didn’t even need to get out of the car for that last one.”

“Seriously, fuck dodging bowling alley security and shit, Wendy Testaburger’s Crystal Meth Delivery Service is where it’s at.”

Wendy laughed, leading the boy into her kitchen. “I’m definitely never selling at another MPCC party again, that’s for sure. Fuck, I might even drop out of school.”

“Well before we get so ahead of ourselves, we should celebrate. You still wanna see my butt?”

“Mhmmm,” Wendy hummed, “But first we should eat. I’m starving.”

“Me too, now that you mention it. Do you wanna like, order a pizza or something?”

“Actually, I was thinking we could make dinner ourselves.”

“Do you cook?"

"Not really," Wendy answered as she started to root around in the fridge. "But I mean, I figure between the two of us, it shouldn't be too hard."

Kenny peered into the fridge with her. "Well what're we gonna make?"

"Vegan shepherd's pie,” she replied, grabbing some of the ingredients they’d need.

"How do you make vegan's shepherd's pie?"

"It's just like making shepherd's pie, you just don't use meat."

"Wendy."

"What?"

"How do you make shepherd's pie."

“Oh, it’s easy, I looked it up online.”

“On Dark Google?” Kenny teased.

Instead of answering, the girl gave him the finger.

Interlude: Kenny and Wendy Make Vegan Shepherd’s Pie

“Alright,” Wendy said after the two had finished assembling the ingredients they’d need to prepare dinner. “Before we start, let’s make sure we have everything we need.” She picked up her phone and read through the list of ingredients on the recipe website she’d found.

  * 4 potatoes
  * 2 medium carrots
  * 1 stalk of celery with leaves
  * 2 cloves of garlic
  * 1 onion
  * Vegan gravy mix
  * Soymilk
  * Soy margarine
  * Olive oil



Wendy checked the ingredients she and Kenny had laid out on her kitchen table.

“That’s everything,” Kenny said. “What now?’

“Lemme see… alright, looks like there are eight steps.”

“Okay, well what’s step one?”

Wendy read aloud from her phone.

_Step 1: Cut the potatoes, carrot, onion, celery, and garlic into small pieces._

Kenny cut up the potatoes into little chunks while Wendy diced the onion and chopped the celery.

“Hey, can you leave the skin on the potatoes?” Wendy asked.

“Uh, I was totally gonna do that anyways,” Kenny said, as if she should have known.

Wendy brought the handle of her knife down on her cutting board and crushed the clove of garlic. “Nice.”

_Step 2: Boil the potatoes._

The two stared at the pot of water sitting on the stove, as if trying to will it to boil. The chunks of potato lay inside. Kenny stood behind Wendy, his arms looped around her and his chin resting on her shoulder.

“How long do we wait for them to boil.”

“It says 15 to 20 minutes, or until tender.”

Kenny gave Wendy a squeeze. “You’re tender.”

“Ah, stop!” Wendy laughed. “We’ve got more stuff to do!”

_Step 3: Heat the olive oil in a pan, add vegetables, and cook._

“Hey," Wendy called across the kitchen to Kenny. The boy looked up from the vegetables he was cooking to see her looking through the kitchen cupboard. “Do you wanna add some wine?" she asked. The recipe says we can add some red wine.”

“Do we have wine?”

Wendy pulled a bottle of wine out of the cupboard. “We’ve got wine.”

“Let’s add wine.”

They added the wine.

_Step 4. Add gravy and soymilk, and stir until saucy._

“Yooouuu’re saucy,” Wendy teased Kenny, bumping him with her hip.

_Step 5. Mash the potatoes with soymilk and margarine._

Kenny mashed the potatoes as Wendy took a swig of wine from the bottle they’d opened. He paused as she handed it to him and took a drink for himself. Handing it back, he took a moment to wipe his brow and went back to mashing the potatoes.

_Step 6. Pour vegetable gravy mix into saucepan and layer potatoes on top._

Her face mere inches away from the food, Wendy slowly – but artfully – spread a thick layer of mashed potatoes over the contents of the pie.

“Careful,” Kenny urged, taking another drink of wine. “This is a crucial stage of the process. One false move and this could all have been for naught.”

“Dude, I don’t know what you’re talking about but you are psyching me out; quit it.”

_Step 7. Bake in oven for a few minutes to crisp potatoes._

Kenny boosted Wendy up onto her kitchen counter so she could wrap her legs around his waist as they made out. Her head pressed into the cabinet behind her as Kenny kissed her hard and felt her up. She ran her fingers into his hair and they stayed tangled together until the oven timer went off.

_Step 8. Remove from oven and let cool before serving._

Exhaling the first hit from the bowl he’d packed, Kenny passed Wendy their pipe, folding his arms and shivering. It was cold in her backyard, and they’d foregone putting their coats on. Wendy took a hit for herself before passing the pipe back to Kenny so he could take another. They passed it back and forth and shivered in comfortable silence until they’d smoked the entire bowl. Once it was finished, they went back inside to finally eat dinner.

End of Interlude

Kenny brought their two bowls of food into the living room as Wendy turned on the TV. They sat on the floor, resting two cushions between their backs and the couch.

“Do you wanna put on Netflix while we eat or something?” Wendy asked as they sat down.

“Sure, whatchya wanna watch?”

“Uuuuuuuuuummmmm,” Wendy hummed as she brought the site’s menu up on the television and began browsing through its titles. “Oh shit, look. They added “Fighting Around the World”. Like, with Russell Crowe. Oh man they’ve got like the whole series. I used to love this show.”

“Really?”

“Yeah, we are watching the hell out of this. This one’s the best,” she said, selecting an episode. The two picked up their dinners and started to eat as the show’s title sequence began, a montage of Russell Crowe demonstrating why the show was called “Fighting Around the World”, set to a jaunty tune.

_Born in New Zealand in ’64, a hot-headed actor named Russell Crowe; he loves to act but he loves one thing more…_

“Fighting ‘rooouuund the wooorld,” Wendy sang along with the theme in a dry tone, her mouth half full of food.

“How much of that wine did you drink.”

“It’s a problem, no one understands,” she told Kenny seriously.

“Stop,” he begged. She didn’t.

“Making music and making movies and fiiiiighting, 'roooouuund thuhhhh, wooooooorrrllld.”

“Russell Crowe makes music?”

“I dunno. Hang on.” Wendy picked up her phone and navigated to Russell Crowe’s Wikipedia page. “It looks like he’s like, been in a few bands. Oh shit, one of them was called ‘The Ordinary Fear of God’.”

“I mean, I knew he sang in _Les Miserables_.”

“You saw _Les Miserables_?”

“Yeah, with my sister. I’ve told you, she likes musicals. I wasn’t too into it though.”

“Me neither! God, thank you. I’ve never liked _Les Mis_. When I was at school I actually went to see it on like, you know, fucking Broadway, and honestly, I almost fell asleep.”

“I thought the way they resolved the whole revolution subplot was so dumb.”

“Yes! It’s like, what’s Eddie Redmayne’s character’s name? I can’t remember. It’s like, all of his friends die, and he’s just kinda like… wow, that fuckin’ sucked, good thing I’m still fabulously wealthy so I can forget about this whole thing and marry the dumb chick from _Mean Girls_.”

“He’s just like a shitty dude, too. I mean, he totally friendzones that other girl who was into him. Like, she literally gets friendzoned to death. I also just don’t really like Eddie Redmayne? He looks like a reptile.”

“He was good in the Harry Potter thing.”

“I didn’t see the Harry Potter thing. Did you like Russell Crowe in _Les Mis_?”

“Yeah, I actually really enjoyed his performance. I know everybody thought he kinda sucked but I dunno, I liked it.”

“I thought he was good too. Apparently Gary Oldman was originally going to play that part though, which would’ve been really cool.”

“Oh yeah shit, yeah, that woulda been great.”

Wendy and Kenny gradually stopped talking as they continued eating and watched the show. Russell Crowe was in Brooklyn, interrupting a few young men playing basketball and provoking them into a fight. They tried to gang up on him, but one by one, Crowe dropped them to the pavement. One man tried crawling away from the carnage, only for the actor to walk over and kick him in the ribs, hard.

Wendy heard the clattering of silverware as Kenny flinched and dropped his fork into his bowl. Fuck, maybe this hadn’t been the best show for her to put on.

“Hey,” Wendy said to him in a hurry, nodding towards what was left of his food. “Are you done? I’m done. Let’s stop watching TV; do you wanna go smoke another bowl, and then liiiiiike, go to bed?” She winked at him.

Kenny smiled at her gratefully, realizing that she’d noticed how the show had been making him anxious. “Totally.”

* * *

Leaving their plates in the sink, they put on their coats and made their way into Wendy’s backyard. Kenny put his hood up. It had started to snow.

“That shepherd’s pie was fucking baller,” Kenny said to Wendy as she packed them a bowl.

“I know, right? I saved us a few bites of mine for when we go back in.”

“You’re a genius.”

Wendy took the first hit from her pipe and passed it to Kenny. She watched him light a hit, inhale, and hold it in.

“Hey,” she said to him. He exhaled. “This is really nice.”

He smiled at her. “Yeah, it is. I love you.”

“I love you too.”

They leaned in close to each other and kissed, both getting another taste of pot. They probably would’ve kept kissing, but they were startled apart by a sharp noise and a flash of light in the sky. They looked around in confusion as the sky went dark again. After a few moments, they spotted something that looked like a firework shooting up into the sky, launched from the backyard of some other house in the neighborhood. It exploded with a satisfying crack into a small burst of light, illuminating the sky once again. More followed, lighting up the night with a series of bangs and pops every few moments.

Watching the sky, Kenny and Wendy passed their pipe back and forth, their hands settling into each other’s after it was all burned out.

* * *

The two returned to Wendy’s room, stoned and sleepy. Wendy turned on a space heater that sat on the floor by her bed, as well as a small lamp on her desk, illuminating the room in a dim glow.

“Okay,” Kenny said. “I know we both really wanna fuck, but on three, let’s both say if we _actually_ want to or if we’re too sleepy.”

“Like at the same time.”

“Yeah.”

“Good deal. You count.”

“One, two, three.”

“Too sleepy,” they said in unison.

“Ugh, cool,” Kenny said as he flopped face-down onto Wendy’s bed. It was only about half the size of his own. In fact, as he turned over onto his side, Kenny noticed that Wendy’s room was significantly smaller than the one he kept at Butters’ place – small enough that the light coming from the lamp on the desk was enough for him to see the unsurprisingly meticulous shape the girl kept her room in. He realized this was the first time he’d been in a girl’s room in a while. He looked over at Wendy to see that she’d started removing her clothes.

“Your bed’s small,” he said as he watched her undress.

“Guess we’re really gonna have to snuggle up, huh.”

“Lemme be the big spoon this time.”

Wendy snickered. “Okay.”

After changing into their sleepwear, the two made their way to the bathroom to brush their teeth.

“Oh, shit, I forgot a toothbrush,” Kenny said as Wendy applied some toothpaste to hers.

“You can just use mine,” Wendy told him, before starting to brush.

“Can I? Are we like, ‘there’ yet?”

“Dude,” the girl said through a mouthful of toothpaste, brush still in her mouth. “I used yours like, the morning after we fucked for the first time. We’ve been there.”

“You did?”

“Yeah, I’d just thrown up.”

“Oh my god what? You... and then I…”

Wendy spat in the sink and held her toothbrush out to Kenny.

He sighed and took it.

* * *

Climbing into Wendy’s bed, Kenny practically had to wrap himself around the girl for both of them to fit.

“You weren’t kidding about snuggling up.”

“Oh please, like you mind. I mean, your dick is gonna be pressed into my ass all night.”

“Yeah well, fair warning,” Kenny said over her shoulder as he ground into her playfully, “I can’t be held responsible for how I wake you up in the morning.”

Wendy giggled and pushed her butt back into him. “Do you wanna make breakfast in the morning?”

“Maybe,” Kenny answered as he slipped his hands up her shirt. “You still owe me a date at Denny’s though, y’know.”

Wendy gasped as his hands reached her chest. “Ugh yesssss let’s get really stoned and get grand slams.”

“It’s a good thing they serve breakfast all day,” Kenny snickered into her neck. “I have a feeling it’s gonna take us a while to get out of bed.”

Wendy had started grinding against the boy’s cock in earnest, satisfied by the feeling of his erection pressing hard against her ass. “It’s a shame we’re both so tired and can’t just fuck now, huh.”

“Yeah, I’d really nail you if I weren’t about to pass out.”

“I’d ride you like a stallion if I weren’t already half asleep.”

“A what.”

“A stallion.”

“Oh my god, you’re bad at talking dirty.”

“What! No I’m not!”

“You just called me a horse.”

“Hey, you've got a nice dick but let's not go nuts.”

"You're actually getting worse."

Wendy rolled over and started kissing him.

“Don’t try to change the subject,” he said against her lips in between kisses.

“You taste like toothpaste,” she answered against his.

Wendy did too, and Kenny liked it, so he kept kissing her, until she guided his hands down to her bottoms to help her out of them, and he did, and she helped him out of his, and he rolled on top of her, and they didn’t sleep all night.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you're all enjoying yourselves, please feel free to leave a review!


	14. These Violent Delights Have Violent Ends

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kenny and Wendy split up. Craig comes through.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So this somehow ended up being the longest chapter of the fic so far?? Buckle up buckaroos!

"So you and Kenny are dating now, huh."

"Oh, he told you?"

"No. But you just did."

Wendy looked over at Craig in annoyed disbelief. Was this kid serious? Craig's face remained stoic, his vision fixed on the road ahead as he drove the two of them towards North Park and the deal Wendy had set up earlier that morning.

God. What had she gotten herself into.

**Chapter 14: "These Violent Delights Have Violent Ends"**

"You double-booked us?" Kenny asked, filling his Jetta up with gas. They'd just stopped to fill up the car before heading to North Park for a last-minute deal Wendy had set up when the girl had gotten a message from another client asking if they were still on to meet up for their deal at around the exact same time.

"How did you even manage to do that? Did you mix up the time zone difference between South Park and North Park?"

"Oh my god, shut up," Wendy replied, leaning against her car and looking at her phone, trying to think of what to type in response. "Look, I dunno, maybe I got too ambitious and set up too many deals today. They're both messaging me right now, though."

"Well which are you gonna cancel on?"

"I mean… I don’t really need to cancel on either of them."

"Uh, we can’t be in two places at once."

Wendy looked at Kenny for a moment, before pointing at him, pointing at herself, and holding up two fingers.

"Wow, really, are we two people Wendy."

"Yeah, we are, which means we can do two sales at the same time."

"Yeah, if we split up, which we are not going to do."

"Jesus Christ," Wendy groaned, rubbing her eyes in frustration. "When are you going to let this go? We've been doing this for like a month, dude; and we've been fine. We don't need to go on every deal with each other. Do you not realize how many more sales we could've been making if you hadn't spent the last few weeks insisting that we never split up?"

"I can't believe we're talking about this again. You know how I feel; I’m not letting you go on one of these things alone.”

"I'm perfectly capable of handling myself!"

"I'm not saying you aren't! I just... I just worry."

Wendy thought about the worried look Kenny had given her in the chapel. She sighed.

"I know."

"You know why, too."

Wendy thought about the information Kenny had shared with her as they'd searched for somewhere to spend the night in New Mexico.

"I know," she said, frustrated with herself for letting herself snap at the boy. She looked back down at her phone to find that she’d gotten another message. "These guys really wanna buy a shitload of meth though."

"How much is a shitload?" Kenny asked, relieved that Wendy had backed down a bit. The girl held her phone up, facing it towards him so that he could read the messages the buyers had sent detailing how much they wanted and how much they'd pay for it.

"Whoa."

"What if we did it just this once. I'd text you right before going in and again as soon as I'm done."

"I dunno…"

"Just this once. I promise. Look, have we run into any trouble doing this in the last month? I'd honestly be surprised if either of these deals end up taking more than thirty seconds. You might not even have to leave your car."

"It's not me I'm concerned about. I really don't feel okay about sending my... like, sending my girlfriend to sell hard drugs by herself."

"Nothing's gonna happen,” Wendy promised. “C'mon dude, these would be the two biggest sales we've made yet, and we'd be making them both at once. Do you really wanna pass this up?"

"I'd feel better if you at least had someone else to go with you."

"What? What do you want me to do, drag Butters along? Who would I even take with me?"

Before Kenny could answer, the two were distracted by the sound of Craig forcing open the frozen-shut door of the kiosk next to the gas pump. Without sparing them a glance, the boy deserted his post and began making his way towards the convenience store, carrying a thermos of coffee that Kenny knew he usually refilled several times over the course of his shifts.

The two of them watched him walk away for a moment, before Kenny turned back to look at Wendy. The girl looked back at him for a moment before realizing what he had in mind.

"Oh. Nuh-uh. No way. I don't think so."

"I’m not letting you go alone."

"Like going with Craig would be any different! What's he even going to do if something happens?

"I dunno! But he's like... y'know... an intimidating presence. I mean, I think he's like, 6'4."

"Yeah, and like, thirty pounds soaking wet. What do I do, hope whatever meth-head tries to fuck with me is afraid of sentient beanpoles?"

"Don’t be mean to Craig. I’ve done tons of deals with him and he's always handled himself very competently.”

"You said he almost got his hand sawed off last time you did a deal together."

"It's not like it actually happened."

"He's not even going to want to go."

"Go where." Craig's voice came from behind them. Kenny and Wendy whipped around to find that the boy had returned, fresh thermos of coffee in hand. Neither of them was sure how he'd gotten there without them noticing, or how long he'd been listening to their conversation.

Kenny blinked. "To North Park. We've got two deals to do and Wendy wants to split up but I don't want her going alone.” He pointed at Craig. “So you're gonna go with her."

Craig’s eyes lowered to Kenny’s finger. "I don't like the sound of that."

"That's what I said," Wendy agreed, folding her arms.

"See, you two are getting along already. Craig, c'mon. We'll give you a cut of the sales."

"How much would that be."

Wendy held up her phone to show Craig the same messages she’d shown Kenny.

"Okay."

"Great," Kenny exhaled. "When's your shift over?"

"In like two hours."

"Ugh, shit. Well, is there any way you can get out of here right now?"

"Yeah. Hang on." Forcing the kiosk door back open, Craig ducked inside and removed a small red sign with the word "closed" printed on it in large white letters, which he hung over the gas pump that had been filling up Kenny's car.

"Okay," he said, before turning to Wendy. "Let's go I guess."

* * *

They’d only made it about two thirds of the way to North Park when the uncomfortable silence that had lasted for basically the entire trip so far finally became too much for Wendy.

“Heyyyyyyy,” she started awkwardly. Craig didn’t react. “How about we turn on the radio or something? You like music?” Everyone likes music right? God, what kind of music did someone like Craig Tucker even listen to though? Bracing herself to find out, Wendy reached over to the car’s center console and turned on the radio, bringing Craig’s CD player to life. However, instead of anything resembling a traditional song, the music that came out of the car’s speakers sounded more like just one long droning note, echoing on into infinity.

Wendy sat in confusion as the sound washed over her. “Uh. What are we listening to here.”

“It’s ambient music.”

“What.”

“Ambient music. It’s like… audio wallpaper.”

Jesus Christ.

“So does Stan know you’re dating Kenny," Craig asked out of the blue.

Whoa what? “What?”

“Does Stan know you’re dating Kenny.”

“Uh... no. No, I haven’t talked to Stan in like… maybe a year. Why?”

“I didn’t know if I should mention it to him.”

“What do you mean?”

“I didn’t know if I should mention you and Kenny dating to Stan.”

Like pulling teeth. “When would you mention that to Stan?”

“Next time I see him at the Youth Center.”

“Next time you... Dude, I am not following you right now.”

“I have this friend, who volunteers at SPYC, and--”

“I know about Thomas, Craig.”

“I have this friend, who volunteers at SPYC,” Craig repeated, “and sometimes I go with him and help out. I usually see Stan when I’m there.”

“And you guys, like, talk?”

“A little. He usually just asks me what’s been going on in town.”

“I thought you hated Stan.”

“I stopped hating Stan when I found out he was gay.”

“What? Why?”

“Because.” Craig turned to look at her. “I’m gay.”

Wendy supposed that made sense. “Do you remember when you found out?”

“Seventh grade. Me and Clyde went skinny-dipping in Stark’s Pond.”

Oh my god. “I meant, do you remember when you found out about Stan.”

“Yeah, I was the first person to find out.”

“What.”

“I think I was. It was senior year, but before that stuff with Gary and all the rumors. I caught them making out in our geometry classroom one day after school.”

Wendy’s mind was reeling. “What the hell.”

“I never told anyone though. I promised I wouldn’t.”

The girl couldn’t think of how to respond. They just sat in silence for a few moments before Craig spoke again.

“I’m sorry about everything that happened.”

Wendy turned and looked at him. Jesus Christ, hearing Craig Tucker offering condolences was almost even more shocking than finding out he’d been the first one to know about Stan.

“Thanks." It was all she could think to say.

The two lapsed back into silence for the rest of their drive through North Park, until finally arriving at the address Wendy's contact had provided. As their car approached, Wendy was a little unnerved to find that, rather than somewhere relatively private, the directions they'd been given had led them to what seemed to be a dive bar, rows of motorcycles lined up outside in the parking lot. As Craig parked, the girl took another look at her phone just to make sure they were in the right place. After confirming that they were indeed where they should be, Wendy decided to send her contact a message letting him know they'd arrived.

"Hey," she typed. "I'm here. You wanna come out and get your stuff? I'm in a navy Hyundai."

Her phone buzzed a moment later. "Inside."

Wendy groaned. Shit. Of course this would be the one time this happens.

"C'mon," she said to Craig, unbuckling her seatbelt. "We gotta go in."

"I thought you said this would be easy," Craig replied, not moving.

"I'm... pretty sure I never said that to you. But it will be. We'll be in and out in like, five minutes."

Craig just looked at her, without saying anything. Fuck, this guy was making her blood boil.

"Would you like to just... stay in the car?" she asked through gritted teeth.

Craig remained silent, before finally killing the engine and unbuckling his seatbelt. "No."

Exasperated, Wendy opened her door, beginning to doubt that any sum of money was worth the frustration of having to rely on Craig Tucker.

* * *

"I've got a bad feeling about this."

"Hush," Wendy whispered to Craig as they stood in the doorway of the bar, surveying the scene inside. The place was packed to the brim with what seemed to be the members of every biker gang in North Park – and there were a lot of biker gangs in North Park. Some were drinking at the bar, while others lounged around the dining area. A few were playing pool on the corner, with another group throwing darts at a board fixed to the wall. Looking around, Wendy had no idea how they were supposed to find their buyer.

"How do we know who our guy is," Craig asked.

Wendy took her phone out to text her contact again. "Inside. Where are you?"

A reply came a few moments later. "Corner."

Fuckin'... as if her current partner wasn't difficult enough to work with already. Fortunately, taking another look around the room, Wendy saw that only one of the bar's corner seats was occupied. Leading Craig over, she found the seat taken by an unkempt, mean-looking, and – if the half-dozen empty cans of beer crowding the table were any indication – drunk middle-aged man. He looked at Wendy as she arrived at the table, before nodding up at her beret.

"Cute hat," he leered.

Wendy had no idea how to respond. She swallowed, before noticing that the man sitting at the table was also wearing a hat, a red baseball cap.

“I, uh… like yours too.”

“Do ya,” he asked.

She took another look at the hat, realizing that she hadn’t seen the white letters emblazoned on the front. Looking again, she could read what the words said.

"North Parkers for a Whiter Colorado"

Oh, Jesus Christ.

“Uh, you're... Cid... right?" Please let this be the wrong guy. Please.

The man hacked up some phlegm from his throat, emitting what was possibly the most unattractive sound Wendy had ever heard.

"Snot my real fuckin' name y’know."

Ugh, fuck. Wendy wasn't sure how to respond. "I... hear that a lot!" she replied awkwardly. She reached into the pocket of her pea coat and pulled out a little brown paper bag, concealing a few baggies of crystal meth inside. "Anyways, here's the stuff, so, if we can just get our payment, we'll be outta here."

Studying them from his table, "Cid" cracked a wicked smile, just wide enough for Wendy to see that he was missing some teeth.

"Why so formal?" he croaked at them, before pausing to clear his throat again. He picked up one of the empty cans of beer sitting on the table in front of him and spit in it. "Why donchy’two siddown'n join me fer a drink 'fore y’go?"

Wendy and Craig looked at each other. "Can you uh, give us a minute?" the girl asked, turning back towards Cid.

"Course."

Standing in place, the two slowly rotated around until their backs were to the man's table.

"Okay we definitely need to get out of here, right," Wendy whispered anxiously.

"Yeah," Craig replied, not even the slightest hint of worry creeping into his voice. God, she was almost impressed by how unfazed he seemed to be. "I don't think this guy is going to be happy about us bailing though; and he still hasn't paid us."

"It's fine... we'll just say we have somewhere else to be."

"I dunno. This is a drug deal. You have to be respectful. Leaving feels like it would be kind of disrespectful.”

"I know, I know, but... come on, it's a public place, what's he gonna do?"

"YOU FUCKIN' DISRESPECKIN' ME SON!?"

Startled, Wendy and Craig's heads whipped in the direction of the bikers playing pool, where one of the gang members had shoved another through a table covered in food and drinks and onto the ground. A group of what they could only assume were members of the same gang took the pool cues they'd been holding and, flipping them around in their hands, began beating the other biker on the ground mercilessly, savagely ignoring his cries of pain and continuing their assault until he'd gone limp and silent. Once they were finished, the bikers flipped their pool cues back around and continued their game.

Without another word to each other, Wendy and Craig rotated back around and took a seat at their new friend's table.

* * *

Kenny gripped his steering wheel as he sat parked outside the address that Wendy had given him before they'd parted ways. The place was nondescript enough – just a simple two-story house at the end of a dead-end road leading out of a North Park suburb – but he was still hesitant to get out of his car and venture closer. Considering that the number Wendy had told him to contact had yet to message him back, though, it was starting to seem like he'd have no other choice. He'd already waited about 20 minutes for the buyer to respond to his "I'm outside" text, and even though he'd sent a second one after waiting an initial 10 minutes, there'd still been no answer. Glancing at his phone in the cup-holder beside him, he sat in silence, filled with dread at the thought of having to actually go up to this guy's house. As his gaze returned to his hands, he realized he was only holding on to the wheel to keep them from trembling.

After stalling for as long as he could, Kenny finally got out of his car and made his way towards the house, clutching the brown paper bag containing the meth for his deal. Carefully navigating the snow-covered walkway leading up to the door, he took a moment to steel himself, before reluctantly reaching out, extending a finger, and pressing the doorbell.

Nothing happened.

Kenny pressed the button a few more times, only for it to remain silent. Great. Could he go home now? Ugh, no way, Wendy would give him so much shit. Considering his options, he could think of nothing else to do but knock, so he raised his hand and rapped on the door five times.

Nobody answered.

Fuck. He eyed the door, his gaze lowering to the knob.

Fuck.

Instead of allowing himself to wait and think, Kenny reached out and turned the knob. The door opened, allowing him into the house.

Stepping inside, he shut the door behind him, blocking out the front room's only natural source of light. Looking around, Kenny saw that the only thing left to cast any kind of light at all was a television playing silently on the far side of the room. He crossed the room and crouched in front of it, watching images flash across the screen soundlessly, only to suddenly be startled by a grunt behind him. Whipping around, he saw that he'd walked by a couch, his presence waking up a sleeping young man who looked like he hadn't left the house in a month. The stranger sat up, surrounded by discarded beer cans and half-full ashtrays, eying Kenny over. He tilted his head, as if surveying Kenny’s very soul.

After waiting to see if he’d say anything, Kenny spoke hesitantly. "Johnny?"

The stranger waited a moment before answering. "No," he finally responded. He reclined back into the couch, preparing to fall back asleep. "I think he's upstairs with Karen."

"Who."

But he'd already gone back to sleep.

Kenny looked over to the staircase. Clutching the bag of drugs in his hand, he made his way up to the second floor, where he found himself looking down a long, dark hallway, lined with rooms on either side. He could hear sounds coming from behind their doors as he walked down the hall – voices on televisions, music playing, people fucking. He walked by each one, as if he somehow knew where he was going. Finding a room at the end of the hall, he reached out his hand and opened the door. He was met by the sound of a heavy blues song, playing from a large set of speakers from inside. The saxophone sounded like it was sick.

Kenny stepped into the cacophony and entered the room. It was lit only by a bright red lava lamp next to the stereo, casting everything in a scarlet glow. Looking around, he saw that there was someone on the floor in front of the stereo, lying on his back, unconscious. He walked over slowly, only to find that it was a boy around his age. Maybe younger.

Kenny found his voice. "Hey."

The boy on the ground didn't reply, he just lay there.

"Hey," Kenny repeated.

"I don't think he's gonna get up."

Kenny turned around to identify the source of the raspy sneer that had come from behind him, only to spot a girl sitting on the floor in the corner, strung out and staring into space. Bathed in red light, she wore nothing but a black t-shirt, revealing what looked like cigarette burns on her thighs. She looked up at Kenny, unimpressed, as if she could tell that he was out of his element. He stared at her without a word, reluctant to look back down at the boy on the floor. When he finally forced himself to do so, he realized that it looked like the girl was right.

Crouching down, Kenny inspected the body slowly, noticing a discarded hypodermic needle on the ground beside it and a rubber tie around the boy's arm. He shifted him onto his side, only for a bit of the vomit he must have choked on to come dribbling out of his mouth.

Kenny felt strange as he reached into the boy's back pocket and removed his wallet. Rather than experiencing the events that were happening through his own senses, it was almost like he was... watching himself – as if he were some kind of anonymous spectator in an unseen audience. He saw himself take out the boy’s license, confirm his identity, and take the cash from inside his wallet. After pocketing the money, he began patting the body down, only to find something else inside a denim vest the boy had been wearing.

As if peering over his own shoulder, Kenny watched himself reach into the boy's pocket and pull out a knife. It was a knife. A pocket knife. An old-looking one with a curved red and gold wooden handle. While it had a weathered appearance, upon releasing the blade he found that it still looked sharp enough to tear through skin – big enough to really take a chunk out of something too. 

Kenny didn't know how long he'd been staring at the knife when he found himself back in his body, looking at it from his own perspective once again. Blinking, he tucked the blade back into the handle and stored it away in his parka. After taking one last look at the body, he turned to leave the room.

"Wait," the girl in the corner spoke again. Kenny stopped. She nodded at the bag of meth. “Can I have that.”

Kenny looked at the girl. The bag in his hand felt so heavy.

"No."

He left the room.

* * *

Free from the daze of anxiety that had gripped him upon entering the house, Kenny's pace picked up immediately as he made his exit, until he was practically running for his car. Getting back inside, he took a deep breath, exhaling for what felt like the first time since he'd left his vehicle. He let out so much air that he had to take an even deeper breath to fill himself back up. Before he knew it, he was hyperventilating, wheezing as his ears began to ring and his peripheral vision blurred. He started looking around the car in panic, without even knowing what he was trying to find, before his eyes locked on to the brown paper bag he'd flung onto the passenger seat. His gaze remained fixed on it as he realized what its contents could do, as he wrestled with the thought of how easy it would be to escape from the darkness that had started surrounding him from every side, the dread that was growing closer and closer, threatening to swallow him up – and then he was in the backseat of his car, watching as the version of himself behind the wheel tore open the bag to get at the drugs within.

Kenny carried four keys with him: one for his car, one for his storage locker, one for his parents’ house, and one for Butters' apartment. After using the first to start his car, he fiddled with his key ring for a moment before removing the one for his parents’ house. Kenny watched as he dipped it into the baggie of meth, spooning out a small bump of the crushed crystal from inside. Before he could stop himself, he raised it to his nose and snorted it, throwing his head back.

The first thing that Kenny could feel upon returning to his body was a sharp burn in his nostrils. The second thing he could feel was higher than he'd ever been in his entire life. He looked around to find the darkness around him gone, eradicated by a holy light that had broken through the heavens to shine down upon him. No. No. The light was coming from him.

The light was coming from him.

**Chapter 14: "These Violent Delights Have Violent Ends"**

A waitress put down two pints of beer in front of Wendy and Craig, and another can in front of Cid. Pulling a wad of cash from his pocket, Cid paid for his drink, before sliding the remaining bills across the table at Wendy and grunting at her. Wendy used a few dollars to pay for her and Craig's drinks before pocketing the rest. Once the waitress had gone, Wendy slid Cid's bag of meth across the table.

"So," the man spoke, picking it up and eying them lecherously. "What's a coupla young folks like yerselves doin' out here with uh," he held up the bag and dangled it from his fingers. "This stuff."

Craig nodded over at Wendy. "She can't afford to go to college so she's selling drugs to save up tuition."

"Craig!" Wendy snapped at the boy. "How do you even know that!" Hearing him share such personal information – that she wasn't even aware he'd known about – was enough to make her momentarily forget where she was.

"Kenny told me."

"Who's Kenny?" Cid asked, amused.

"Her boyfriend."

Wendy hit Craig on the shoulder.

"Ow."

"College girl, huh," Cid mused, looking Wendy over. "Never went m’self; as… difficult as that may be for ya t’believe."

Wendy was silent, a lump forming in her throat.

"I know what's like t’have nothin' though," he grumbled. "Tha's fer sure. Damn sure; and I've seen what a person whose got nothin'll do just to get a lil' somethin'. A lil' anythin'. Havin' nothin' can do terrble things to a man..." He laughed. "Or a girl..."

Wendy remained silent as he continued to stare at her and chuckle.

"And what's this’n's story," he asked, turning to Craig.

"I'm an independent film maker."

Wendy gave Craig a confused look.

"Well how ‘bout that. A sin-oh-mo-tah-gro-fer." Cid started to laugh again, before turning to Wendy. "Bechyu wouldn' expec' someone like lil ol' me t'know a two-dollar word like that'un huh college girl?"

"I'm sure you're a very intelligent and cultured individual despite your lack of formal schooling," Wendy replied, growing more uncomfortable by the second.

"God fuckin' damn-ass right I fuckin' am." He hocked up some more phlegm. "What kinda movies you make, boy?"

"I consider my aesthetic to be a synthesis of Harmony Corrine, Stanley Kubrick, Terrence Malick, Paul Thomas Anderson, and early Steven Spielberg."

Wendy gave Craig another confused look.

"Big names," Cid nodded, seemingly impressed. "And what're these films ‘bout, huh Spielberg?"

“My latest script parallels the cultural death and economic collapse of a quiet mountain town with a small circle of polyamorous queer youth unknowingly contracting HIV through intravenous drug use and recklessly spreading it to their sexual partners.”

Wendy gave Craig the most confused look she’d given him the entire afternoon, which – by this point – was really saying something.

Cid let out a raucous laugh. "I'd watch it! Sheeit, I've watched a lotta fuckin' films, man. What kinda films you kids like, what’re yer favorite movies?"

Craig answered first. " _2001: A Space Odyssey_."

Wendy was surprised when Cid turned to her, expecting her to answer as well.

"Uh. _Rushmore._ Wes Anderson?”

Now it was Craig’s turn to look at Wendy – but instead of confused, he just looked unimpressed.

“What!”

“I tell ya,” Cid laughed, “all the movies I’ve seen, my favorite hasn’t changed since I was prolly ‘round yer age. Either’you kids seen _Pulp Fiction_?”

"Yeah, of course,” Craig answered. “Tarantino's a hack."

Wendy looked at him. So did Cid, his wicked smirk falling from his face.

"What did you just say."

"He relies too much on his cheap gimmicks. ‘Unconventional’ structure, masturbatory dialogue, pop culture references, cloying soundtrack cues... Anyone can do that shit.”

Cid tightened his grip on the can of beer he'd been holding, crushing it in his fist. Wendy swallowed.

"Git the hell outta my sight," he seethed.

Neither of the two broke eye contact with the man.

"Go!" he shouted.

Wasting no more time, Wendy and Craig hurried up from their seats and out of the bar, not pausing to catch their breath until they’d made it outside.

Wendy turned to the boy once they’d reached the parking lot and resumed breathing.

"What the fuck was that shit Craig!"

"He seemed like he wanted to have an honest conversation about film," the boy deadpanned as they started to make their way back to his car.

"An honest conversation about... you could've gotten us thrown through a pool table, dude!"

"It's not even the best Tarantino film."

"I don't care what the best Tarantino film is! That was seriously not cool! I mean, you were the one worried about disrespecting him!"

"I'm sorry. I guess I didn’t know that engaging a fellow cinephile with a subjective opinion is considered disrespectful when you're selling crystal meth."

"So that's what you two were doin’ in there, huh."

Fuck. Wendy and Craig spun around – half-expecting to see that they'd been followed by a cop and were about to be arrested – only to find that two bikers had walked after them out of the bar. Shit, what did these guys want? Maybe they were interested in buying too?

"Uh... yeah." Wendy tried to play cool. "Why, you guys looking for something?"

The bikers wore a grim expression on their faces. "Nahhhh," one of them said, his voice low and gravelly. "We don't mess around with that shit. Lotta us don't anymore. In fact, our buddy you were talking to in there had been clean for about four months now."

Wait, what was going on.

"Are you sure," Craig answered. "We just sold him like a bunch of drugs."

Why would he say that!!!

"Yeah. We know you did. And we're not too happy about it."

Shit.

One of the bikers started walking towards them. "I used to have a son, y'know." Looking closely, Wendy could see that the man had tears in his eyes. "Before that crap you're selling started pouring into this town like a flood. Before people like you took him away from me."

Ohhhhhhhh shit.

"After we lost him... my marriage couldn't take it. My wife left, and I hit the road. Now tell me... how do I know it wasn't you who sold my son his final score?"

Wendy put her hands up and started to speak very quickly. "Hey, look, I've only been selling this stuff for like a month, okay!"

The biker who had grown close enough to reach them shoved her to the ground. She hit the pavement hard, skinning the palm of her hand as she fell. Looking up, she saw the looming figure of the man standing over her.

"Only a month, huh? You two even from here? What'd you think, you could just come out to the sticks, take advantage of a drug-ridden community and make a quick buck?"

Paralyzed in fear, Wendy had no idea what to say. I mean, fuck, that was exactly what she'd thought, wasn't it?

"People like you making me fucking sick," the other biker snarled as he stepped up to stand alongside his friend. "Profiting from the weakness and suffering of others. Y'know, normally we wouldn't think about hurting a lady." He clenched his fists. "But judging by the type of business you're in... you don't seem like too much of a lady to me."

Trying to think of something to do, Wendy clenched her eyes shut tight – only to open them again when she felt someone else step in front of her. Looking up, she saw that Craig had blocked their path. Surprised, the girl watched from the ground as he stood between them, waiting for him to say or do something. The bikers, mildly surprised, waited too.

But Craig just stood there.

Finally, their patience expired. "What the fuck are you doin’, boy!?" one of the men shouted in frustration.

"Determining your center of gravity," Craig deadpanned.

"What the FUCK did you just say to me!?"

Before anyone could say or do anything else, Craig moved like lightning, grabbing one of the bikers and flipping him through the air and onto the ground. Wendy could practically feel it herself as the man hit the pavement, crying out in pain.

She looked up at Craig in complete and utter shock.

The biker who remained on his feet looked at his friend in terror, before turning his attention back to Craig. "You fucking--"

Wendy watched Craig take a deep breath and kick the biker in the chest, sending him flying through the air as well. She was completely dumbfounded, too busy trying to process what was going on to even get up from the ground. Before she could move, Craig grabbed her by the hand and pulled her to up to her feet.

"C'mon," he said. He led her across the parking lot quickly, not letting go of her hand until they'd made it safely to his car.

* * *

They were almost back to South Park before Wendy found herself able to ask Craig about what had just happened.

"Craig... what the fuck was that shit."

The boy took a moment before responding.

"Peruvian martial arts."

"Peruvian martial... since when have you done martial arts?"

"A while. I'm a green belt. That's better than being a green belt in other kinds of martial arts though."

"I didn't know you did any kind of martial arts."

"There's a lot you don't know about me Wendy."

Wendy considered it for a moment. He wasn't wrong – which made it even stranger that he was apparently familiar with some pretty personal details about her life.

"Sounds like you know quite a bit about me, though," she said. "When did Kenny tell you about my thing with school?"

"Well he didn't really. He just told me that you didn't have the money to go back to the city. I put the rest together myself."

“Huh.” Why was Wendy not surprised. What else did Craig Tucker know? The girl looked at him. "Hey," she decided to ask, her curiosity spiked, "Has Kenny ever told you what he's planning to do with all the money he makes doing this?"

"No. Kenny doesn't really talk too much about himself, y’know. But I'm pretty sure he's like, saving all of it to give to his sister or something."

"His sister?"

"Yeah. He probably wants her to have something when she can move out after school. You know, his family doesn't really have a lot of money."

"I mean, I've always known that. I guess I just haven't thought about it in a while."

"Yeah. Like I said, he doesn't talk about it much. I don’t blame him for worrying though. His parents' place has always seemed like a pretty bad scene. It probably got worse after that thing with Kevin too.”

Wendy had an idea. “What thing with Kevin?”

“Y’know, he OD’d.”

So Craig Tucker didn’t know everything.

“Anyways, I dunno if it’s because of what happened with Kevin but Kenny’s like totally devoted to his sister. Like, I'm pretty sure he passed on going to college just so he could stick around here and make sure nothing happened to her."

"Whoa. Is that really why he never applied to any schools?"

"Pretty sure. It's not like he even really had to, though, after he got a full ride to that art school."

The car was silent for a moment.

"What?" Wendy asked.

"Kenny got a scholarship to an art school in New York our senior year," Craig answered. "I think he submitted one of his paintings to a contest, and he won or something. It sounded like a weird school, though. Like I think it was called the Nude School. I dunno, artists are weird."

Wendy grit her teeth. The New School. One of the most prestigious art schools on the east coast. Like, the best art school in New York City.

The girl spoke slowly, trying to stay calm. "Kenny. got a full ride. to the New School?" It was hard even saying those words, let alone wrapping her brain around the concept they represented.

"If that's what it's actually called, yeah, I guess."

She couldn't believe what she was hearing. Any good reason that Kenny might have had for not going away to school vanished from her mind, replaced only by an overwhelming sense of... betrayal.

"He's never told me that."

"Yeah, well, I mean, again; he doesn't really talk about stuff like that."

Wendy thought about all the times she'd vented to Kenny about school, how much of her frustration and despair she'd shared with him over the past months; how vulnerable she'd allowed herself to be with him.  All this time... all this fucking time, he'd had the exact thing that she'd been chasing. He'd had it all along. Not only that, he'd thrown it away. How could he have even pretended to care about what she was going through? She felt like she'd been lied to; like she'd been cheated; like the one person she'd been able to open up to after coming back home had stabbed her in the back.

By the time Craig dropped her off at Kenny's apartment to get her car, Wendy felt like she was going to be sick. She'd spent the entire drive lost in her emotions, trying to wrap her head around how she was feeling about Kenny. It wasn't until Craig pulled up to the curb in front of the building that she found herself conscious of her surroundings again.

"Hey," he said, noticing how absent she'd become. "We're here."

Wendy snapped back to reality. "Oh." She gathered her things and got out of the car. Before she left, she leaned in through the passenger-side window to say goodbye. "Hey, Craig... thanks. For everything today. Those moves you did were... seriously awesome."

"Don't mention it," Craig replied. Before the girl could turn to leave, he said one more thing.

"I think it's cool that you still wear that beret."

Wendy reached up and touched her hat, surprised. "Uh... thanks," she said, the boy's sincerity leaving her at another loss for words. Huh. Craig Tucker.

With that, he was gone – leaving Wendy with nothing left to distract her from the recent information she'd learned about Kenny. Still not sure exactly what to do, her eyes narrowed as she turned and made her way into his apartment building.

* * *

Kenny was still high by the time he got home. He knew he probably shouldn't have driven after doing that bump of meth, but fuck, he felt like he could do anything. Sure, his nostrils may have still felt like they were on fire, but having to wipe his nose a few times every minute or so was a small price to pay for the aura of invincibility that he could still feel radiating around him.

Riding the high, he practically bounced up the five flights of stairs leading to Butters' place, already reaching for his keys. But before getting to the top, he found that the one for the apartment was missing from his carabiner. His storage locker key and the one to his parents’ were still there though, so he must've just gotten them mixed up when removing one earlier. He could definitely remember dropping the other one into his car’s cup-holder after doing that bump though, so it was just a matter of walking back to the car. Or maybe Butters was home and he'd just let him in. That was worth a shot, so he took out his phone and started typing up a text to his roommate as he got to the top of the stairs.

"Hey," he heard Wendy say as he reached the top step. Looking up from his phone, he saw that she'd been waiting for him in front of his door. If he were a little less high, the sight of her might have sent him into a panic; after all, he wasn't exactly prepared to hide the fact that he'd just done crystal meth from his girlfriend. In his current state though, he was sure he'd be able to play it off. Why did she look so pissed though?

"Hey," Kenny greeted her. "How'd things go?" God, he'd practically forgotten that she'd gone on a deal of her own too. Was she in a bad mood because she couldn't end up making the sale or something? He almost hoped that was the case; it'd serve her right for sending him off by himself. Kenny went up to the door of his apartment and knocked. “Butters!” He waited a few moments before knocking again. “Butters! C’mon dude, don’t be at Eric’s!”

"Craig told me you got accepted to the New School."

Kenny turned around. "What?"

"Scholarship and everything. Full ride. Were you ever planning on telling me about that?"

The boy was having a hard time following what was going on. "I'm sorry... what are we talking about?"

"We're talking about what a fucking idiot I feel like!" she yelled at him. "I've spent the last five months selling fucking drugs – selling drugs, Kenny! To save up money to go to fucking school in fucking New York City, and this whole time, this whole god damn time, you've had an acceptance letter from a college that's a fucking subway ride away from the school I can't afford to go to just, I dunno, just, sitting in a drawer somewhere, or something!"

Whoa, she was really yelling at him. Was this seriously what she was so upset about though? Seriously? Did she even think about things for a fucking second? He’d already had to fight to get her to see why he’d be reluctant to go on the kind of drug deal that got his brother killed alone – now he had to explain to her why he couldn’t just leave South Park and go to school in New York City? He may still have been high from the meth, but that was absolutely not a conversation he felt like he could have with her at the moment. Especially not after the day he’d just had.

“Wendy…” he started. “I like… cannot talk about this right now.”

“Well tough shit, ‘cause we’re going to!”

Yeah, no, he was seriously not in the mood for this.

“I'm seriously gonna need you to calm down.”

"Don't tell me to fucking calm down," the girl practically spat at him. "Has it been funny? Watching me running around trying to chase something that you've had all along?"

"What kind of question is that? What, do you think I've spent the last half a year just laughing at you behind your back?"

"I don't fucking KNOW, Kenny! Just like I don't know how you could possibly just throw away a scholarship from a school thousands of miles away from South Park!"

"Are you kidding me? What are you even talking about? Do you really think I could've gone to school in New York City?"

"You got a full fucking ride!"

"Yeah, and like a laundry list of fucking reasons why I couldn't use it!"

"Ha! Believe it or not, I'm reeeeaalllly not interested in hearing any of your excuses for why you decided to sell drugs instead of going to college!"

"Of course you're fucking not! If you were, you probably would’ve asked me about it at some point over the last half a year! God forbid anything challenge your perception of me as some loser burnout though, right?" Kenny scoffed.

"Oh because that is ooooobviously how I see you!" she yelled back at him. Growing even angrier, she advanced towards the boy until she was right in front of him. "You know if you think I'm such a bitch why don't you just say it?"

“Oh my god, when have I ever said you were a bitch!”

“You don't need to! I know you think I am! Everybody in this fucking town thinks I am!”

“Well maybe they wouldn’t if you stopped fucking… fucking moping around the place like a fucking martyr! Acting like some kind of, some kind of, disgraced messiah, fucking, mourning the loss of some illusive destiny you’ll never fucking fulfill!" Kenny barely knew what he was even saying anymore, but it sounded right. It seemed to be driving Wendy crazy, too. Good.

“What the fuck are you even talking about!" the girl yelled at him. "Are you high!? What did you do, decide to fucking--”

Kenny inhaled through his nostrils sharply, wiping his nose.

Wendy paused.

“Oh Kenny. You didn’t.”

He laughed. “Fucking. Spare me, Wendy.”

The girl took one step back. "I will. I don't even know what I would say. I don't think I can even talk to you right now."

"God,” Kenny sneered. “I can't believe I actually expected things to be different after New Mexico."

"What does that mean."

"I guess it means I was stupid enough to think you were finally going to stop acting like you're so much better than me."

"I… I don't act like I'm better than you…"

"Yes you fucking do!" He lowered his voice and leaned in closer to her as he spoke. "It's not just me, either, it's this whole town. You've always acted like you were too good for this place, and you thought that moving away to the city was finally gonna be your way to prove it. But guess what Wendy, you're still here; and you know what that proves?” He was right in her face now. “It proves that you're NOT better than South Park – and spending your afternoons selling fucking crystal meth in North Park proves that you're DEFINITELY not better than me, so stop treating me like I'm such a fucking piece of shit!"

"Get away from me."

Wendy hadn't meant to shove him as hard as she did. She wouldn't have shoved him at all if she'd realized how close to the stairs they'd been standing. She hadn't been able to think about that though. She was barely able to even think about Kenny's scholarship anymore. All she could think about when she’d realized how fucked up the boy had gotten was how many fights she’d had with someone who used to be the same way; all she could think about was how much time she’d spent watching someone she truly cared for – someone she loved – turn into someone else, and destroy himself; all she could think about was how she could never put herself through something like that ever again.

If she'd been able to think about anything besides that, she would have backed away from Kenny. She wouldn't have shoved him. She wouldn't have shoved him and she wouldn't have had to just stand there looking at him as time seemed to stop and leave his body hanging in the air before her.

Of course, Kenny's body wasn't hanging in the air, it was plummeting down the stairs behind him.

Kenny may not have screamed as he'd fallen, but he began as soon as he hit the ground – or at least after the sickening crack Wendy could hear his arm make all the way from the top of the stairs. He started screaming and he didn't stop.

Wendy looked down the stairs in horror. She'd pushed Kenny down an entire flight, down to the floor below. Still screaming, he writhed around on the ground, clutching at his right arm. Even from the top of the stairs, she could see that blood had begun to seep through the sleeve of his parka. Her hands rose to her mouth as tears began to form in her eyes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading guys! Feel free to leave me a review and let me know how you're enjoying the fic so far!


	15. Defying Gravity

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Wendy catches up with a former customer. Kenny struggles with some mixed feelings.

Gripped with panic, Wendy blew Kenny’s Jetta through a red light as she sped towards Hell's Pass Hospital, the boy himself writhing in agony in the backseat, eyes clenched shut and face distorted in pain as he sobbed and clutched his broken arm. She couldn't see it under the sleeve of his parka, but she could tell by the blood gushing down his hand and staining the interior of his car that the bone had broken the skin.

God, a whole flight of stairs. A whole fucking flight of stairs she'd had to push him down. So hard that he’d managed to clear every step before landing on the floor below, right on his fucking arm. Honestly, she was lucky he wasn't dead. He was hurt though, and bad. The pain from his arm was so overwhelming that he wasn't even able to speak. They were more than halfway to the hospital and Wendy still hadn't been able to get a single word out of him, just wails and sobs and shivers. Afraid of him blacking out from the pain and going into shock, the girl yelled over her shoulder at him, just trying to get his attention and keep him conscious.

"Hey!" she cried at him over his sobs. "Hey, Kenny! You're okay! Hey, look at me! Everything's gonna be okay! I know it hurts but it'll be okay, you’re gonna be okay! I promise! Hey! Hey, who's my super best friend!" Desperate for a response, she turned around in her seat, keeping her foot firmly on the gas. "Kenny who's my super best friend! Who Kenny! Kenny! Kenny! Look at me!"

Kenny's eyes stayed clenched shut as he shivered and seethed in the backseat in pain, tears running down his face.

"God DAMN it!" Wendy shouted, whipping back around just in time to catch the exit to Hell's Pass.

Their car screeched to a halt in front of the hospital entrance and Wendy leapt out, calling back to Kenny as she went.

"I'llberightbackeverything'sgonnabeokayipromise!" she yelled as the door slammed shut behind her. "Fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck!" she added once it had closed, making a beeline for the entrance. Going as fast as she could, she ran into the emergency room lobby and up to a nurse sitting behind the front desk, practically colliding with the counter in front of her.

"Myfriend'soutsideandhisarm'sbrokenandthebonewentthroughtheskin!"

"Fuck," the nurse replied. "Can he walk?"

"Nohe'sinmycaroutsidebythecurb!"

"Fuuuuuck," she repeated, before calling down the hallway. "Wheels!"

The next thing Wendy knew she was hurrying after a hospital staff rushing a gurney to Kenny's car. When they reached it, they opened the door to the backseat and pulled the boy out, maneuvering him onto the gurney and making sure he was secured to it. Wendy was relieved to see that he was still conscious, even if he was still in too much pain to even realize what was going on.

"This looks really bad," one of the hospital staff said to the others as the team rushed the gurney back to the hospital.

"I can't believe how much blood there is," another replied.

"I'm not looking forward to seeing his arm after we get him outta this parka."

"I think we're gonna have to cut it off."

"WHAT!" Wendy screamed, horrified.

"The parka! Sorry! The parka!"

Kenny hadn't stopped sobbing the entire time, his face still screwed up in pain. It wasn't until they'd made their way back to the lobby, until the hospital staff were pushing him past a set of doors Wendy couldn't follow them through, that he finally managed to open his eyes and bite back his sobs. Wendy caught his gaze as he looked straight at her, his eyes wide with hurt and shock and confusion and betrayal – as if he were just realizing for the first time what was happening, where he was, how he’d gotten there, what she'd done to him; and then he was gone.

The look he'd given Wendy anchored her to the spot. All she could do was stand there, staring at the doors that had shut behind him as the hospital staff had wheeled him away. The feeling of nausea that overcame her when she learned about Kenny's scholarship returned, even worse than before – a pit of anxiety growing in the bottom of her stomach and making its way right up to her chest. God. She'd fucked things up. She'd really fucked things up. Kenny was going to hate her. Fuck. What had she done? What had she done? Didn't she promise him, back in New Mexico, that she wasn't going to let him get hurt again? And now she'd fucking--

"Um, excuse me," Wendy heard someone say next to her. Snapping back to reality, she saw that the nurse had returned, a clipboard and pen in her hands. "You're going to, uh, need to fill out some paperwork."

Wendy took one look at the nurse before throwing up all over the floor of the emergency room lobby.

**Chapter 15: "Defying Gravity"**

Fifteen minutes later, Wendy was sitting in an examining room having her blood pressure taken.

"Well, all your vitals seem normal," the nurse told her, scribbling down a few notes on her clipboard as the cuff around Wendy's arm finished deflating. "And you say you weren't feeling sick prior to throwing up back there?"

"I don't think it had anything to do with my health," Wendy explained. "It just felt like... my whole world was closing in on itself. Like my heart was going to implode or something."

The nurse hummed in response. "Kinda sounds like a good ol' garden-variety panic attack to me."

"A panic attack?"

"Could be. Tell me, have you been dealing with any stress lately?"

Wendy couldn't help but let out a laugh. “Stress?” she asked the nurse. “God. I mean, where do I even start." She laughed again, before falling quiet for a moment. "I just… I just wanted to go to college, y’know? I worked my ass off all through high school, acing classes, running for student council… My sophomore year, I realized we didn’t have a chess club, so you know what I did? I started one myself. I didn’t even know how to play chess, and the only other member who signed up for it was my boyfriend – I mean, my ex-boyfriend – and he only did it to make me happy, because he didn’t know how to play either. But that was just the kind of kid I was, y’know! And I thought if I did all that stuff, when the time came, my grades, and my hard work… my ambition… I thought it’d all get me into some good school far away from this dumb little town. And it did! But… but then I had to come back, because I… I fucking ran out of tuition money. After that, I had no idea what to do... until I met this boy; well, I didn’t ‘meet’ him, he was like, best friends with my boyfriend – ex-boyfriend – for years, before my ex… well… he’s a different story. Anyways, we… we went to a party, and then… then I found out he sold drugs, right? And well… one thing led to another, and we went back to his place, and I… I tried pot for the first time and we had sex. That was gonna be it though! I just wanted to let off some steam, y’know? That’s all. But then… then! This other kid I went to high school with shows up in one of my classes – I had to like, y’know, enroll in community college, because, fuck, what else am I gonna do? – and he gives me this dumbass idea, right, that I could make the money I’d need to go back to school by selling drugs. And who do I know that sells drugs? Bingo! Before I know it, I’m selling weed not only to that kid, but to like, everybody who goes to my fucking school! I’m selling fucking molly to teenagers at concerts, too! All while developing feelings for this boy, who’s become like, basically my only friend in this town, because I’m – y’know – a total fucking idiot, I guess. I flat out told him too! Right at the start! ’We can’t keep fucking if we’re gonna sell drugs with each other! We can’t be anything more than friends!’ But then what the fuck do I fucking do? I fuck him again two months later! And then I try to fuck him AGAIN a month after that! Like, what is wrong with me! I mean, it took seeing him get nearly beaten to death by these people we were buying crystal meth from in New Mexico for me to finally tell him I’m fucking in love with him! Oh, by the way, yeah, I convinced him to start selling meth with me up in North Park – which, it turns out, is exactly how his brother got stabbed to death. Fuck me, right? That’s actually what we were doing when I found out he got a full ride to this fucking art school our senior year – which he didn’t accept, and never told me about, of course! Wouldn’t you be pissed if you found out about something like that too? I mean, now that I think about it, I can see why he might've been reluctant to bring it up, but… look, I didn’t care if I was being unreasonable. I went straight to that fucker’s apartment, all ready to give him a piece of my fucking mind, but when he finally shows up, guess what? It turns out he’s high on crystal meth. Can you fucking believe that? So we get into this big fight, and say all these mean things to each other, and then I… look, okay? I’ve dated someone with substance abuse problems before, and, and seeing him like that, it was like, I wasn’t thinking, okay? If I’d been able to think I wouldn’t have pushed him, but I wasn’t, so I did! I did! I did it! I pushed him! I pushed him right down the stairs! Right down a whole, fucking, flight, of, stairs, god, damn it. You should’ve heard the sound his arm made when he hit the ground. I mean, I’m surprised it took me as long to throw up as it did. God, that look he gave me though… when they were wheeling him away… that was even worse. I feel like I... fuck, I dunno. I feel like I’ve ruined everything. So, yeah. Yeah, I guess you can say I’ve been dealing with some stress.”

Wendy could tell by the way the nurse was looking at her that she'd talked for way longer than she'd intended. The woman seemed reluctant to respond, but then she spoke.

"You, uh, you sell weed?"

Fuck. Had she really just said all that shit? "Uh... yeah," she admitted. "Yeah, I do."

The nurse tapped her pen against her clipboard for a moment. "Are you like... y'know... holding? I've got like forty bucks in my car."

Wendy sighed.

* * *

Wendy left the hospital with forty dollars, a prescription for Valium and Kenny's parka over her shoulder. Well, most of it, at least. Just as they expected, the hospital staff had needed to cut the boy out of it. When they’d returned it to her at her request, it was missing most of the right sleeve, the remains of which they’d given to her sealed inside a large plastic bag. She was just thankful they hadn't thrown it away.

Reaching Kenny's car, Wendy looked into the backseat, grimacing as she surveyed its blood-stained interior. She shifted the boy's parka off her shoulder to toss it into the car, only for something to fall out of one its pockets and onto the ground below. Bending down to pick up, she saw that it was a pocket knife.

Wendy examined the knife, its wooden handle the same rusty shade of red as the boy’s car. She pulled out the blade and studied it. It looked sharp. Since when did Kenny carry around a knife? She couldn’t remember ever having seen him use it before. Did he bring it along on that last deal in case something went wrong? She couldn’t fault him on that. Thinking about how her own deal had gone, she actually found herself wishing she’d had a knife herself.

Huh. Actually, that gave Wendy had an idea.

* * *

“Welcome to Jimbo’s Guns, Hunting Gear, and Outdoor Equipment Emporium! Your number one stop when you want to kill something or enjoy an outdoor activity! Hey! Aren’t you my nephew’s girlfriend!”

“Ex-girlfriend,” Wendy clarified, smiling awkwardly. “Hi Jimbo.”

“I knew it was you, Wendy!" Jimbo yelled at her, wagging a finger at her in recognition. A lifetime of exposure to gunshots and explosions had left the man nearly deaf, to the point where he had to deliver everything he said in a deliberate shout, just to hear his own voice. "Bit surprised to see you walk through my door, though; you never really struck me as the shootin’ kinda girl!”

Wendy admittedly wasn’t the “shootin’ kinda girl” but if Kenny was gonna be taking a knife with him on these deals she probably should have a way to defend herself as well. She didn’t even want to begin thinking about what those bikers might’ve done if Craig hadn’t pulled that judo shit out of his ass. Besides, she had a few hours to kill before she’d be able to go back and see Kenny at the hospital. Might as well be proactive.

A robotic voice chimed in to join their conversation. "D o y o u k n o w w h a t k i n d o f g i r l i t h i n k y o u a r e,” it asked Jimbo. Wendy looked around the store's owner and noticed that Ned Gerblansky was stocking shelves behind him.

“Shut up Ned!” Jimbo shouted. “So! Wendy! What’re you thinkin’! Hunting rifle? Shotgun? Or maybe you're in the market for something automatic!"

“Welllllll I’m not really looking for a guuunnnnn,” Wendy explained. “Do you have anything a little less... lethal? I just need something I can use to like, defend myself, y’know?”

“D e f e n d y o u r s e l f f r o m w h a t,” Ned asked.

“Uhhhhhh there has beeeeen aaaaaa series of disappearances on my campus lately,” Wendy lied. “I go to school up in Middle Park. Y’know, MPCC.”

“People’re goin’ missin’?” Jimbo asked. “Yikes!”

“T h e y a r e p r o b a b l y d e a d b y n o w.”

Wendy winced. “Uh. Yeah. I mean, I dunno what’s going on, but I want, y’know, something I could use against someone if they like, try to grab me or something I guess.”

"Non-lethal..." Jimbo mused loudly. "Well, that's not something we get much demand for 'round here, but I'm sure we could find you something!"

"W h a t a b o u t t h a t s h i p m e n t w e g o t i n l a s t w e e k," Ned asked.

Jimbo clapped his hands. "Ned, you're a genius! Wendy, follow us!"

The two men led Wendy into the back room of the store, where they found a large wooden crate sitting on a desk in the corner. Inside the crate were about two dozen black handheld devices. Jimbo pulled one out and held it up for Wendy to see.

"Military-grade taser!" he announced.

"A taser?" Wendy asked.

"That's right! Perfect for crowd control situations, as well as one-on-one personal defense! Easy to use too! Just watch!" Without warning, he jabbed the taser into Ned's shoulder, sending a jolt of electricity surging through the one-armed man's body.

Ned shook and recoiled in pain as Jimbo shocked him. "O w. T h a t h u r t, y o u a s s h o l e."

"See! Very painful! But non-lethal in most circumstances!"

"Most circumstances?" The girl took the taser as Jimbo handed it to her. She held it up to eye-level and studied it for a moment, her finger resting over the button that triggered its electricity.

"Well, it's too small to really fry someone or anything like that, but it still produces enough electricity to be dangerous! You hit somebody with that long enough and you could stop their heart! Here," he took the taser back from her and turned to Ned. "Let me show you just the right amount of time you should shock someone!"

Ned took a step back away from Jimbo. "S t a y a w a y f r o m m e y o u f u c k i n g --"

"I'll take it!" Wendy shouted, freezing the two men in their spots just as Jimbo was about to light Ned back up. "Just... no more demonstrations..."

Looking at her, the two men remained still for a moment, before Jimbo decided to shock Ned anyway.

* * *

Wendy left with the taser secured in her backpack. Fuuuuuuuck she needed to get high. Getting back behind the wheel of Kenny's Jetta, she took out her phone to check the time. Jesus Christ, it was only three in the afternoon? She couldn't believe that it had only been a few hours since she'd gotten back from her trip to North Park with Craig. Three o'clock on a Saturday... her parents would probably be home, so she couldn't smoke there; and she'd sold the last of the weed she'd had on her to that nurse, so she couldn't even hotbox the car. Ugh. Wendy rested her head on the steering wheel in front of her and looked down at the floor of the car, trying to think of what she wanted to do. Her gaze began wandering around the car, until she spotting something in the cup holder. It was a key.

20 minutes later, Wendy was letting herself into Kenny's apartment. After everything that had happened, she'd never needed to be less sober in her entire life. Without even bothering to check if Butters was home, she dragged herself to Kenny's room and collapsed on the boy's bed, landing face-first into his pillows. She was tempted to just curl up and fall asleep, but she wanted to be awake in case she got a call from the hospital. So instead of passing out, she checked under the bed to find Kenny's lunchbox and retrieved the small mason jar of pot he kept inside. Reaching for the bong by the side of the bed, she packed herself a bowl and killed it in two hits, before packing another and smoking half of that one as well. Letting the smoke seep out of her nose, she fell over onto her side, utterly exhausted. She lay there on top of the bed, motionless, waiting for the high to set in.

As it did, Wendy realized that this was the first time she'd been in Kenny's room by herself. She'd been inside it on several occasions over the past few months – most of which found her spending the night in it, even – but she'd never really taken a good look around it. Not that there was very much to see... actually, Kenny kept the place pretty sparse. In fact, the room was practically empty, save for the boy's bed, a nightstand, and a dresser in the corner. Man, he really didn't have many things, did he? Although considering the room actually belonged to Butters – er, well, to his parents – she couldn't really blame him for not making himself at home.

Her curiosity mildly abuzz, Wendy looked around the room lazily, before spotting Kenny's record collection, sitting in a milk crate in the corner by his dresser. Lacking the energy to lift herself from the bed, Wendy instead slid onto the floor. She half-rolled, half-crawled across the carpet and into the corner, where she lifted herself to a sitting position and began to flip through the boy's records, examining each one's cover as she came to it. Sgt. Pepper's. Pet Sounds. David Bowie. Big Star. Lou Reed. The Springsteen album she'd given him. The Replacements. Sonic Youth. Browsing through the collection, Wendy realized that for the most part, Kenny had organized the albums chronologically, so that she found herself moving from the 60s to the 70s to the 80s. Fuckin' nerd.

Reaching the end of the albums, she took another look around the room, only to spot something much more interesting than the boy's record collection. Crawling over to the other corner of the room, Wendy took a closer look at the half-dozen paint-covered canvases Kenny had propped up against the wall. She sat on the ground, studying the boy's artwork, each piece a half-finished exploration of color and vision that, quite honestly, really just looked like what you'd get if you handed a few buckets of paint to some pre-schoolers and told them to smear it all over the place. At least, that's what they looked like to her. She squinted at one in confusion, a mix of blues and greens with splotches of yellow here and there. Thinking back to the first painting of his that she'd seen, his work had always leaned more towards the impressionistic, but at least she could tell what that one was. She wondered what kind of painting had won Kenny his scholarship to the New School before shaking the thought out of her head.

Fuck. She needed to distract herself. Maybe she should put a record on. Better yet, she could smoke more. No, shit, wait. She had told herself after leaving the hospital that there was something she had to do. It was probably the least she could do, all things considered, but... at least it would be something.

* * *

Kenny woke up to an unfamiliar ceiling. Realizing that he was in a hospital bed, memories of what had happened came rushing back to him. That house, the dead kid, doing that meth, the fight with Wendy. She pushed him down the stairs.

He looked at his arm to find it encased in a heavy cast. Studying it for a moment, he sighed.

Fucking hell.

"Uh, hey..."

Startled, Kenny looked to the door of his room to find a timid Wendy standing half-inside.

"I uh, didn't wanna come in before you woke up," she said quietly.

Kenny remained silent, left speechless by the mix of emotions that had flooded him upon seeing Wendy. The last time he could remember seeing the girl, she was standing at the top of a flight of stairs that he was falling down –  no, that she'd pushed him down – after screaming at him about something she hadn't even bothered trying to understand, just as he was getting back from a traumatizing drug deal that she'd sent him on alone. Looking at her now, from a hospital bed, with a cast on his arm... she didn't look any different; and he was having a hard time reconciling how he felt about the girl who'd done all that and the girl he'd spent the last six months falling in love with.

"Uh, hey," he finally managed to reply.

"Hey, Wendy repeated, slowly moving into the room and taking a seat in a chair at the side of his bed. "How are you? I-I can't stay long, visiting hours are almost over..." – Kenny realized it was dark outside – "But I really had to see you. I was so... I've been... God, fuck, Kenny, I'm so sorry. I don't even know what to say."

Kenny had no idea what to say either. He couldn't even begin to figure out how he was supposed to feel. He could clearly see that the girl was sorry – it was written all over her demeanor; and of course she was, he knew she hadn't meant to push him down the stairs. That didn't change the fact that she'd done it though, or that she was the one who'd started the fight that led to it happening in the first place. Was he supposed to just act like it hadn't happened? Sure, it was an accident, a mistake, but when it came down to it... wasn't it still her fault?

Whether it was or not, the last thing Kenny felt up for at that moment was another fight. Storing his emotions away to unpack later, he tried to comfort Wendy as best he could.

"Hey, it's okay. I mean, it was an accident."

"It really was!" she replied desperately. "I would have never-- I didn't mean to--"

Whoa, she was really distraught over this. "Dude, dude, really, it's okay," Kenny told her, trying to calm her down. "I know you would've never meant to, uh..." Something prevented him from saying "push me down a flight of stairs and break my arm."

"I'm so sorry for everything else too. I've had time to think and I... I can't believe how I reacted to hearing about you getting that scholarship. It was completely inappropriate, like, if I'd been able to pull my head out of my ass for like one minute and think... fuck, and the way I acted when I realized you... you... do you wanna talk about that, like about what happened? I was really... scared."

"I know," Kenny said, deciding to ignore her offer to talk about things. "I'm sorry too... for scaring you; and I'm sorry about all that stuff I said. I like... obviously wasn't thinking either."

Wendy remained quiet, as if she were expecting the boy to continue talking. Kenny could tell that she was hoping he'd feel comfortable sharing why he'd returned to his apartment high on crystal meth.

"So uh, have they told you when they’re gonna let me out of here?" he asked her instead.

Wendy blinked, surprised and disappointed. "Um... oh, the nurse told me that they wanted to keep you overnight and do some more x-rays or something tomorrow, but you should be able to go home later in the afternoon, or in the evening at the latest. I thought I'd come by and bring you breakfast in the morning, then I'd pick you up and take you home later on."

"Okay, sounds good." Kenny could feel Wendy starting to worry about the vacancy of his replies, but he found himself quickly losing the emotional stamina he needed to pretend that everything was just 100% cool between them. It wasn't exactly easy to process his new mixed feelings with her in the room, either; and if he couldn't do that, how was he even supposed to talk to her? He was definitely starting to feel like he could use some time to himself.

"Cool," Wendy answered, although her tone implied that she was fully aware of how the mood of the room had shifted.  "I think I gotta get going now though... visiting hours are definitely over..."

"Okay, I'll see you in the morning."

"Okay." Wendy didn't move, unsure of whether she should just get up to leave or kiss him goodbye first. After a moment's hesitation, she chose the former and began to make an awkward exit, stopping and turning once she'd reached the door.

"I, uh. I love you."

Kenny's heart hurt as he looked at her standing in the doorway. "I love you too," he replied.

She gave him a weak little smile and left. Once she was gone, he let himself slide onto his back in bed, disappearing beneath its covers like a turtle withdrawing into its shell, until he was in up to his nose.

Oh man, that suuuuuuuuucked.

Groaning in frustration, Kenny reemerged and picked up his phone, which had been resting on the table by his bed. He checked the time and made a call.

"Hey," he said once the other line picked up. "Don't freak out, but I'm in the hospital."

"Oh my god," Karen responded. "Did Craig get you pregnant? I told you two to use protection."

Kenny went to rub his face in frustration, only to hit himself with his own cast.

"Ow. Shut... shut up. I broke my arm."

Karen let out a laugh on the other end. "You kids are wild," she deadpanned.

"Anyways... I just wanted to let you know, I guess. I know I told you I'd be coming over tomorrow but I don't think I'm gonna be able to make it anymore. I didn't want you to worry or anything. Although now, in retrospect, I can see that I had no reason to be concerned."

"Oh come on, I'm just givin' ya shit. What happened?"

"Ugh, I don't even know," Kenny lied. "I was walking up the stairs to my apartment and I realized I didn't have my keys on me, so I tried texting Butters to see if he could let me in. I guess while I was looking at my phone I must've missed a step and slipped or something."

"Way to go. I'm glad you're okay though, how bad was the break?"

"Fucking... awful. The bone went through my skin. There was like a shitload of blood apparently."

“Apparently?”

“Yeah I was like, really out of it; I barely remember anything that happened.”

"Jesus, dude. How did you even get to the hospital?"

"Well, Craig wasn't there to gallantly sweep me up and carry me in his arms, but Butters was able to drive me. He must've heard me fall or something."

"Thank god for your spaz of a roommate, I guess. You want me to come visit you tomorrow? Should I like... tell mom and dad, or anything?"

"Nah, don't worry about any of that. Who knows if I'll even have to hang out here that long."

"Alright, well, let me know if there's anything I can do in the meantime."

"Thanks, I think I'll be good. Just uh, don't elope with Firkle or anything while I'm in here, okay?"

"For the last fucking time: I am not--"

Kenny chuckled to himself as he hung up on his sister. He put his phone down and got up to use the bathroom before trying to get some sleep. Despite having spent a good half of the day already passed out, he still felt exhausted after everything he'd been through.

Shuffling to the bathroom, he lowered his pants and went to take his dick in his hand to aim it at the toilet – but when he tried, he found that his cast prevented his fingers and thumb from coming close enough to grasp it. Kenny held his hand up and glared at it. He better still be able to jerk off at least. He peed, aiming with his left hand – which felt weird.

Walking back to his bed, he paused and went over to the large window on the other side of the room, where he realized that he was on one of the top floors of the hospital. From his vantage point, he could practically see all of South Park in the distance. Snow fell quietly from the night sky, a fresh blanket promising to cover the town while it slept.

That night Kenny dreamt he was on his roof. It was late, and freezing, and he didn't have his parka on. It was so dark, too. Where were the lawn ornaments? He looked around for them and realized he didn’t have a cast on his arm, that it wasn't broken.

Shivering, he felt compelled to make his way to the edge of the roof, leaving footprints in the snow as he walked over to one of the sides neighboring an adjacent building – one without the surrounding buttress that lined the side facing the street, which he and Wendy usually sat against while getting high. Reaching the end, he stood on the ledge and looked far below, down into the alley separating his apartment building from its neighbor. Lifting his head, he stepped away from the ledge and returned to the center of the roof, before turning back around. He took a deep breath and closed his eyes, before calmly running across the roof and leaping off the edge, falling through the air and to his death in the alley below.

"AAAAAHHHHH!!!" Kenny screamed in terror as he awoke with a start, jolting up in bed.

"AAAAAHHHHH!!!" Wendy screamed in response, her phone flying out of her hand as she fell backwards in her chair and onto the ground.

Kenny's nurse poked her head into the room to find Kenny sitting up in his bed panting and Wendy groaning on the floor.

"Uh, everything okay in here?" she asked.

"Yeah..." Kenny answered, catching his breath. It was morning. He'd just had a bad dream.

"Totally fine," Wendy added from the floor, still recovering from her fall.

"Oh, well, great," the nurse replied, before her head disappeared from view.

Kenny was still panting a bit when he looked down at Wendy. Just like the last night, he was less happy to see her than he would have liked. The girl looked back up at him and gestured up to the table next to his bed. He turned to find a brown paper bag from Jack in the Box and a cup of coffee.

"I brought you some breakfast," she smiled sheepishly.

Kenny blinked. "Uh, thanks." He unwrapped the breakfast burrito she'd gotten him and started to eat it in silence, too distracted by his nightmare to even try and talk to Wendy. He could almost still feel himself falling through the air and plummeting down to the ground below. Looking at the girl sitting a few feet away from him, he realized that he hadn't been able to remember how he'd felt while falling down the stairs yesterday. Now he could.

But the sinking feeling in his stomach wasn't the only thing about the dream that had been familiar. What was it though? What had the dream meant? Why had he--

"Hey," he said to Wendy, realizing something. "What're you doing today? Could you do me a favor?"

"Of course!" Wendy replied quickly, eager for an opportunity to start making up for freaking out on him and putting him in the hospital.

"Could you tell Craig to go pick something up at my parents' house for me? I'd just text him about it but he might need to my key to get in, so you'll have to drive over to Hatty's and give it to him."

"Is that it? No problem!"

"Cool, thanks. I just need him to get this old blanket I've been wanting to put on my bed at Butters' place. I was actually gonna go over there today and I'd still like to have it for when I go home later, y'know? It's been getting seriously cold at night."

"Totally! I'll bring him the keys and let him know. I can swing back around Hatty's on my way to pick you up later and grab it from him too."

"That'd be so great, thanks." Kenny didn't know what to say after that. He and Wendy sat in silence until it became awkward.

"I, uh, think I'll go drop your keys off with Craig now, then," Wendy said, getting up to excuse herself.

"Cool, yeah, I... again I really appreciate it."

"Yeah, no worries." She stood by his bedside, again unsure of how to say goodbye. Swallowing her reservations, she bent down to hug the boy and kissed his cheek. "I'll see you in a bit," she said quietly.

"See you in a bit," Kenny replied. He did his best to smile at her as she left.

* * *

Wendy didn't need to go back to Kenny's apartment to get his keys because she'd used his car to get to the hospital that morning. She'd slept in his bed last night too. God she was having a weird weekend. After leaving him at the hospital, she'd driven his car back to his apartment with every intention of just dropping it off and getting hers, but when she got there and parked she decided instead, on a sleepy whim, to make her way up to his apartment, where she walked past Butters in the living room without saying a word and disappeared into Kenny's room. After taking a rip from his bong, she undressed in a daze and crawled into the boy's bed, before falling asleep trying to tell herself that Kenny didn't hate her as much as she was afraid he must.

In the morning, she'd woken up and gone right to the hospital, hitting up Jack in the Box on the way over. Driving to Hatty’s, the girl reached for the cup of coffee she’d gotten for herself, only to take a sip and learn that it had grown cold while she’d left it in the car at the hospital. Grimacing a little, she went over the details of her errand. Give Craig Kenny's keys, tell him what to pick up, then head back to Hatty's and get it from him. Easy. Pretty much all she had to do was talk to Craig; and approaching the gas station, she could already see him filling up a car that had just pulled up to the pump.

Wait.

While her task had seemed simple only a moment earlier, seeing Craig caused Wendy to slam on her breaks, a warning siren blaring in her head. It was at that moment that she realized that she was on her way to go talk to Craig Tucker. Well, I mean, she'd obviously known that, but she hadn't really thought about the implications. Craig didn't know what had happened, and he'd obviously have questions about where Kenny was – questions that Wendy suddenly felt unsure about answering. The thought of him learning that she had broken Kenny's arm filled her with dread. Sure, she could just lie and say that it was an accident – which it technically was! – but now that she's learned just how sly and calculating the boy could be, she wasn't exactly confident in her abilities to keep the truth from him. At least not at the moment – she was probably acting as guilty as she felt. Fuck, he was gonna read her like an open book.

Wendy turned Kenny's car around before Craig could notice her approach and drove away from the station. Fuck, what was she going to do? She told Kenny that she'd take care of this for him and the thought of letting him down made her stomach sink. He already had enough reasons to not be happy with her. She tried to decide what was worse: Craig eventually realizing she'd broken Kenny's arm, or another cold reception from her boyfriend when she returned to the hospital empty-handed.

Hang on though, maybe she didn't even need Craig. After all, Kenny had told her what to pick up, and she already had the keys to his parents' house. Why couldn't she just go herself? Ugh, because she had no idea where Kenny's parents lived, that's why. Althoooouuugh... maybe she knew someone who did.

Wendy picked up her phone and texted Bebe. "Hey," she typed, "Do you have the address to Kenny's parents’ house?" She sent the message and stared at it, hoping for a timely reply.

Thankfully, Wendy's phone buzzed only a moment later. "Hey!" Bebe replied. "I think I have it saved in my phone." Oh thank fucking god. Then Wendy got another text.

"Why tho? Omg are you gonna be like waiting naked for him on his bed or something when he comes home??"

Wendy's face scrunched up. "WHAT? NO!" she texted back. "He doesn't even live with his parents anymore! Shut up!" She glared at her phone, waiting for Bebe's next message, which arrived a few moments later.

"LMAO you're such a slut!!!"

Wendy groaned and started typing up another response. She stopped when Bebe finally messaged her the address, followed by one more text.

"Miss you," it read.

Wendy let out a wistful sigh. "Miss you too," she texted back.

* * *

Wendy parked in front of Kenny's house and got outside, walking up to the door. It didn't look like there was anyone home, but she was still hesitant about unlocking the door and just letting herself into what was essentially a stranger's house. What if Kenny's parents were home? There was no car in the driveway, but... She tried to think. Did the McCormicks own a car? Fuck. Should she just knock on the door? God, this really wasn't how she'd wanted to meet her boyfriend's parents for the first time.

Wendy was pacing back and forth in front of the door, trying to figure out what to do, when she heard it unlock and start to open. She froze in terror, with no idea what she was even going to say to Kenny's parents – but while she'd been expecting the boy's mother or father, behind the door stood a blonde girl a few years younger than herself. The girl looked at her.

"You're not Craig Tucker."

What the? Seeing the girl, Wendy was immediately struck by the impression that they'd met before. She hadn't been able to place her, but as soon as she spoke Wendy recognized her as the girl who'd been with the goth kids at that party in Middle Park.

"You're Firkle's girlfriend," Wendy said, confused.

The girl's expression sunk to one of contempt. "No I'm not,” she replied, unamused.

What was she doing here? Did Wendy have the wrong house? Wait a second, how did this girl know about Craig– oh, no. Oh no fucking way.

"Are you Kenny McCormick's sister?”

The girl's expression perked up in mild surprise. "Yeah." She looked at Wendy inquisitively, as if remembering her from the party. "You went to school with him, right? Wendy? You're Stan's girlfriend."

"Ex-girlfriend," Wendy corrected her nervously. Oh my god there was no way this was happening. "But yeah, me and Kenny are, uh, friends."

"Are you looking for him? He's not here. He's actually, uh, in the hospital, apparently."

Well at least she wasn't going to have to worry about explaining that. "No, uh, I know! He actually wanted me to come 'round here and pick something up for him."

"Huh. What happened to Craig."

Good question. Ugh, Kenny must've told her Craig would be coming by or something. Wendy stood in silence, not sure what to say. Then, realizing whose sister she was dealing with, she decided to give something a try.

"Craig was bein' a little bitch about leaving work."

Kenny's sister just looked at her. Then she rolled her eyes.

"God, of course he was," she sighed, turning around and letting Wendy follow her into the house. "I'm Karen," she said over her shoulder. She walked over to the McCormick's cramped, messy kitchen and began washing a pile of dirty dishes stacked up in the sink. Wendy looked around the untidy house, its surfaces covered in dust, old newspapers, and other hoarded detritus.

"Kenny's room is down the hall," Karen told her.

Wendy made her way to Kenny's room. Except for a desk, it was pretty much as empty as his other one. She opened his closet to find a duffel bag sitting on the floor inside, not unlike the one that held their supply of meth. Unzipping it revealed a thick flannel blanket packed within. Cool. She zipped it back up and hoisted it over her shoulder.

Walking back down the hallway, Wendy caught a glimpse of a poster hanging in Karen's room. She looked inside and called to the girl in the kitchen.

"Yo, you like _The Book of Mormon_?" She stepped inside and looked around to find an assortment of posters for other Broadway musicals on the walls. _Phantom of the Opera_. _Hamilton_. _Next to Normal_. _Sweeney Todd_. Right, Kenny's sister was a theatre geek.

Karen followed Wendy inside. "Yeah, you've heard of it?

"Uh, actually, I've seen it. I lived in New York for like a year and every now and then I'd rush some Broadway shows with my friends."

"Ugh, what? That's awesome."

"It was a lot of fun. This one time, one of my roommates and I stood in the freezing cold for like two hours to get into _Spring Awakening_ for free."

"Sounds like a dream," Karen sighed, taking a seat on her bed. "I'd die to actually see one of these shows."

"You haven't seen any of them?"

"When would I have? I just listen to the soundtracks and like... read plot summaries on Wikipedia and stuff. Every now and then you can find a shitty bootleg of something online, but that's usually about as good as it gets. The last time I actually saw a play in person was when my elementary school did _Into the Woods_ – and they only did the first half, without any of the dark stuff! Which is like, I mean, the dark stuff is what I'm there for, you know?"

Wendy laughed. "Is that why you're dating Firkle, too?"

"Ugh, I am not dating Firkle!"

"You're not?"

"No! God." Karen collapsed on her bed and looked up at the ceiling. "I mean, look. Okay. Firkle is... Firkle is beautiful. He's like, he's this... majestic, androgynous-looking manic pixie goth boy with a dark soul but a soft heart and a poetic nature who looks really hot when he plays drums. But he is like. So fucking. Gay for Ike."

Wendy snorted. Loud.

"It's like, all he talks about when we hang out!" Karen clenched her fists up at the ceiling in frustration.

"That's really funny."

"Well I'm glad somebody finds it amusing."

"So if you're not dating Firkle, do you mind if I ask why you... I mean, no offense but like... why do you hang out with the goth kids?"

Without sitting up or looking at her, Karen pointed towards the corner of the room, where Wendy saw an acoustic guitar propped up against the wall. It took her a few moments to put the pieces together.

"The goth kids don't have a guitarist in their band," Wendy realized aloud

"Yep," Karen deadpanned in reply.

"You play guitar?"

"Yep."

"And you want to join the goth kids' band?"

"Yep."

"Can you play me something?"

Karen didn't answer. Then she sat up. "You want me to?"

"Totally!"

The girl looked unsure. Her eyes moved between Wendy and the instrument in the corner. Finally she replied.

"Okay. Yeah, sure." Retrieving her guitar, she sat down on her bed and removed the pick from between its strings. Wendy watched as she plucked out a few notes, turning the knobs on either side of the guitar's head to tune it as she played.

"What should I play?"

"Whatever you want!" Wendy replied, taking a seat on Karen's bed next to her. The younger girl looked thoughtful for a moment.

"Okay," she said. She laughed a little. "Okay, hang on." She took a breath, and then began to play, plucking out a repeating series of notes and nodding her head as she figured out a tempo. After a few moments, she closed her eyes and started to sing.

"Something has changed within me... something is not the same... I'm through with playing by the rules of someone else's game..."

Wendy watched Karen play. The girl didn't have the best voice, but she did a decent enough job carrying the tune; in fact, you might say that there was even a bit of a nasally charm to the way she sang.

"Too late for second guessing, too late to go back to sleep; it's time to trust my instincts, close my eyes, and leeeeaaaap!"

Karen abandoned her picking pattern to just start strumming the guitar as she reached the song's chorus, belting out a vocal part that was clearly meant for a much better singer.

"It's time to tryyyyyyyyyyyy defyyyyyyyyiiiiing graaaaaaaaavittyyyyy; I think I'll tryyyyyyyyyyyy defyyyyyyyyiiiiing graaaaaaaaavittyyyyy; kiss me gooooodbyyyyyyeee, I'm defyyyyyyyyiiiiing graaaaaaaaavittyyyyy – and you won't bring meeeeee dooooowwwwwnnn!"

Okay, it hadn't sounded great, but Wendy had to hand it to her, she hit the notes at least. Karen seemed a little surprised herself that she'd actually managed to do it, laughing a bit as she finished. Wendy got the impression that this might have been the first time she'd ever actually performed in front of someone. Imbued with a new sense of confidence, Karen began the second verse.

“I’m through accepting limits, ‘cause someone says they’re so... Some things I cannot change, but ‘till I try I’ll neeeever knooow!”

To her surprise, Wendy found herself becoming unexpectedly moved by the girl’s performance. Chills actually began to creep over her as the words of the song resonated and spoke to her like little had in recent memory.

“Too long I’ve been afraid of losing love I guess I’ve lost… Well if that’s love it comes at much too high a cooooost!”

Wendy decided to take advantage of the fact that Karen had chosen to play a song that she’d actually heard before and joined in to help her sing the second chorus, the two girls’ voices blending together in improvised harmony.

“I’d sooner buyyyyyyyyyyyy defyyyyyyyyiiiiing graaaaaaaaavittyyyyy; kiss me gooooodbyyyyyyeee, I'm defyyyyyyyyiiiiing graaaaaaaaavittyyyyy!”

Karen flashed Wendy a surprised smile in between words that told her she was thankful for the help. Emboldened by the other girl joining in, she started to, for lack of better words, really play the shit out of her guitar, hammering away at it as she launched into the song's bridge.

“SO IF YOU CARE TO FIND ME, LOOK TO THE WESTERN SKY! LIKE SOMEONE TOLD ME LATELY, EVERYONE DESERVES A CHANCE TO FL--“

Karen strummed her guitar too hard and broke a few strings, snapping them with a startlingly discordant twang. Wendy recoiled and the girl's performance came to an abrupt halt. Karen looked down at her instrument.

“Shit.”

* * *

"Sorry about your guitar," Wendy said as Karen walked her to the door.

"It's fine," the younger girl sighed. "It happens like once a week, honestly."

"You totally killed that song though! Like seriously dude, you rock. The goth kids like, have to let you in their band."

"Thanks, I still kinda gotta pitch 'em the idea. They think guitars are for conformists."

"Of course they fucking do."

"So is there anything else you need?" Karen asked as they reached the door.

"I think I'm good, actually. Thanks for letting me in."

"Don't mention it." Karen paused, suddenly looking unsure of herself. "Hey, this might be weird, but... can I ask you a question before you leave?"

Uh oh, Wendy didn't like the sound of that. "Uh, sure," she answered regardless. The younger girl looked at her for a moment.

"Does my brother sell drugs with you?"

"Uh." Wendy felt a pit open up in her stomach. She couldn't catch a fucking break this weekend, could she? Karen might as well have asked her if she'd been the one who put Kenny in the hospital. She looked at the boy's sister, no idea what to say. Fuck. She had to say something though, didn't she? Fuck. Fuck.

"Yeah," she answered.

Karen sighed in resignation. "Okay. I thought so."

"You did?"

"Yeah, I mean. I dunno. Back when I first started high school some kids were making fun of me, and asked if I could get my brother to sell them some drugs. I thought they were just being dicks about Kevin but like, I dunno, I guess I was able to put two and two together after that."

"It's not like we..." Wendy was about to say that it wasn't like they were in the same situation as Kevin, but fuck, weren't they? And hadn't that been her idea, her decision?

Karen could clearly tell what a hard time Wendy was having explaining things. "It's fine," the younger girl said. "Like I said, I've kinda known for a while. I mean, Kenny basically gave me a few thousand dollars like a month or so ago." She laughed. "Like, did he honestly expect me to believe he made that working at a gas station?"

Wendy offered a nervous laugh in response. So Kenny had left what was probably all the money he'd made selling weed to his sister right before they'd started selling meth. Christ, that certainly didn't make her feel like any less of a monster.

"So you're not worried about him?" she asked Karen. "Even after... what happened with Kevin?"

The girl sighed again, as if she'd already spent a long time thinking about it. "Kenny's different than Kevin. He's more careful; and he... he knows he's all I've got. I don't think he'd do anything dangerous. I don't think he'd like... leave me alone."

Listening to Karen's words, Wendy could feel a lump forming in her throat. "No, he wouldn't," she assured the girl. Okay, she had to get out of there, now. Unfortunately for her, Kenny's sister had one more request.

"Just promise you'll make sure nothing happens to him, okay?"

Yeah, she had to leave right now.

"Okay. Yeah. I promise." With that, she opened the door, thanked Karen again, and left.

She drove away from Kenny's house with tears streaming down her face. Asshole. You asshole. You fucking asshole.

* * *

Kenny was waiting by the curb in front of Hell's Pass when Wendy came to pick him up in her Prius later that evening, seated in a wheelchair with his nurse behind him.

"What's with the wheelchair?" Wendy asked, opening the passenger side door.

"Medical protocol," the nurse explained as Kenny got up and into Wendy's car. "See ya."

"Later," Kenny replied.

Neither of the two said much as Wendy drove them home. She glanced over at Kenny nervously as the boy looked out the window, facing away from her.

"I uh, got that blanket from Craig. I had enough time to swing by your place actually so I just left the bag in your room." Shit, why hadn't she just put it on the bed for him? Idiot.

"Oh, cool, thanks again." Kenny hadn't turned away from the window when he'd spoken and he didn't say anything else after that. The silence in the car was beginning to make Wendy uncomfortable.

"Sooooo," she said, trying to strike up an actual conversation. "Did they, uh, give you any cool painkillers or anything?"

That finally got the boy to turn around. It took him a moment to answer. "Yeah, they actually gave me some Oxy."

"Whoa, for real? That's like, good shit, right?" She turned to him and forced a mischievous smile. "You wanna take a few later tonight and see how fucked up we get?"

Kenny looked at her like she was crazy. "Uh, no? I don't wanna waste any. I kinda need them, for like, y'know, my arm. It actually still hurts a lot."

Wendy looked back at the road, mortified. "Right, yeah, no. I was just kidding."

Kenny looked back out the window. "I just wanna smoke when we get home. Besides, didn't you give me shit for doing that meth."

Ugh, Wendy hadn't even thought of that; she'd just been trying to lighten the mood. Fuck though, that reminded her that they hadn't even talked about any of that shit. She'd attempted to bring it up at the hospital... but Kenny had clearly not wanted to have that discussion.

"Do you wanna... talk about that?" she forced herself to ask the boy again.

Kenny took a moment to think about it. He answered without looking at her. "Nope."

The boy hadn't warmed up by the time they got back to his apartment. He got out of the car without saying anything, leaving Wendy to follow him inside. Entering the lobby, he froze in his tracks, stunned by what he saw on the floor of the room: bloodstains leading to the stairs, and up the steps too. He followed them about halfway up the first flight before turning around to look at Wendy a few steps below. She'd been following him at a distance as he'd slowly made his way across the room. The girl looked up at him.

"Your arm was really bleeding a lot."

"Did you get me down to the car all by yourself?" He couldn't remember anything in between Wendy pushing him and waking up in the hospital. Jesus, that was four flights of stairs she would've had to maneuver him down. He couldn't imagine having been much help, either.

"It was really hard," Wendy said, looking at him and hoping, almost desperately, that he'd understand how worried about him she'd been. "I... I got you to the hospital as fast as I could though, I really did."

Fuck, the way Wendy was looking at him made Kenny feel like a total dick. Why was he trying to make her feel bad? That was what he was doing, wasn't it? I mean sure, she might've broken his arm, but he didn't have to treat her like she'd done it on purpose, or like she wasn't sorry. Softening, he met the girl's distressed expression with a comforting smile.

"Hey. I'd expect no less from Wendy Testaburger."

Seeing the boy smile at her like that took a weight off Wendy's chest. She followed him up the stairs, pausing alongside him once they'd reached the spot where he'd fallen to look at the largest stain of all, a reminder of the pool of blood that had collected on the floor as Kenny had writhed around on the ground in the time it took Wendy to get down to him.

Kenny rose his arm and looked at his cast, surprised that all that blood could've come from him. He turned to Wendy.

"Man, you really did a number on me, huh?"

Wendy looked at him, at a complete loss for words. The boy snickered. Sure, he may have told himself that he’d stop trying to make her feel bad, but that was just too good to pass up.

* * *

"Jesus is it good to be home," Kenny said as he collapsed onto his couch, immediately after Wendy had let them into the apartment.

"This has certainly been a weekend," Wendy agreed. "Do you wanna smoke?"

"I need to smoke."

"Cool; can we just do it in your room? I think it's too cold for the roof."

"Yeah, for sure. I don't even have my parka. Oh man," Kenny realized sadly. "I don't have my parka. They said they had to cut it off me. Oh man, I don't have my parka anymore." His voice wilted, deflating at such a considerable loss.

Wendy smirked for a moment. "Aaaaactuallllly," she said before taking the boy's hand and leading him into his bedroom, "I've got a surprise for you." On Kenny's bed lay his parka, neatly folded. "Check it out."

Kenny picked up his coat to find that the sleeve had been sewn and patched back together -- so carefully that he could barely tell that it had been torn in the first place. He looked from his parka to Wendy, speechless.

"I got really good at sewing when I was in Girl Scouts."

Kenny almost laughed. "Of course you did."

"I... I had fix it, y'know? It felt like the only thing I could fix."

"Wendy... you don't have to fix anything."

"You told me that wearing it makes you feel safe and I always want you to feel safe when you're with me."

Kenny could tell from Wendy's voice and how quickly she'd forced the words from her mouth that she'd been nervous about saying that. Kenny didn't know how to answer. Because, well, if he was being honest... he didn’t know if he did. He looked down at the parka he was holding. She was really trying, though; and the fact that she'd known just what to do made his heart swell.

"I know," he smiled at her. "And this means so much to me." He put his parka back on his bed and wrapped her up in a hug. "I love you."

"I love you too," Wendy replied quietly, letting herself exhale in his arms. It felt like the first time she'd been able to breathe all weekend. She buried her face in his neck, taking comfort in his scent.

"C’mon, let's get high," she heard him say, patting her back. Taking a seat next to each other on the bed, they took out Kenny's lunchbox and packed his bong. Unfortunately, the boy had a bit of a hard time using it. He found that his cast prevented him from both using a lighter and grasping the bowl, meaning that Wendy had to light his hits for him.

"Say when you want me to stop; make sure you're breathing in, too, I don't wanna burn my fingers."

"I know how to do it. God, this is pathetic."

"Oh please. You had to light me a hit the first time we smoked."

"Yeah, and it was a little pathetic."

Wendy scoffed. "You know, I don't have to help."

"Good, ‘cause I don't need it."

"Oh no?"

Kenny looked at Wendy, before holding out his left hand so she could pass him their lighter. Balancing his bong on his knee, he leaned down and inhaled through it, using his left hand to light the bowl. After filling the chamber with smoke, he dropped the lighter and used his same hand to left the bowl and clear the bong. He inhaled and held the smoke in as he looked at the girl, before it started to seep out of his nose.

"Read 'em and weep, Testaburger."

"Well," Wendy said, "I guess I've underestimated you for the last time." Kenny passed her the bong and she took a hit. "Speaking of which, did you know Craig does karate."

"I think it's actually Peruvian martial arts."

"What the hell, so you do know. Why does everybody know all this stuff about each other but me."

"We're friends, we hang out."

"Okay, but like, still." Wendy was starting to feel a little high. "Hey, have you and Craig ever like... y'know."

"Have we ever what?"

"You knoooowww... I mean... you're an open-minded guy, and he does like blonds."

"Oh my god," Kenny scoffed.

"People experiment! I figured if you were ever interested in that kinda stuff... Craig probably would've been your go-to option."

"Yeah, and why's that."

"I dunno! I mean... you do have good chemistry."

"Please, stop," Kenny begged, taking another hit. "You're starting to sound like my sister."

Something about Kenny bringing up his sister made Wendy drop the conversation. That wasn't something she wanted to think about at the moment. Unfortunately, once they'd stopped talking, they both found it difficult to start again.

Kenny's thoughts returned to trying to sort out his feelings for Wendy. Thinking about how things had been going since they'd left the hospital, he was surprised to find that the nice things she'd done for him – running that errand for him, fixing his parka, even helping him get to the hospital in the first place – had actually ended up only making him more upset. It was almost as if he wanted to be mad at the girl – like he was annoyed by how difficult she was making it for him to just be angry. Fuck though, that was so... petty. He didn't want to act that way. That wasn't him. Telling himself that didn't help him feel any differently though. He didn't know what to do; just being around her was putting him on edge.

"Hey," he decided to tell her. "I know it's not really that late yet, but I think I wanna try and get some rest."

Wendy perked up as the boy broke the silence that had settled between them. "Oh! Okay! Totally. I brought some stuff to sleep in, let me just grab my bag from the living room."

Oh no, was she serious? "You're gonna sleep over?" Kenny asked, trying not to sound like the very thought filled him with dread. He was really hoping that she would’ve gotten the hint and head home.

There was just enough surprise in his voice to make Wendy feel uneasy. "Uh, yeah... I don't have class until around noon tomorrow, and I thought... I thought you might appreciate the company."

As much as Kenny had been looking forward to having the rest of the night to himself, he didn't have anywhere near enough emotional stamina to start having a conversation with the girl about why he didn't want her to stay. She was clearly feeling fragile and he was worried that just trying to explain himself would turn into something much more dramatic than he could handle at the moment. Hell, he'd feel bad even bringing it up, considering how hard she'd been working to make things right. Instead, he decided to just swallow his anxiety and let the girl stay.

"Okay, cool. If you're sure it won't make you late for school or anything."

“It'll be fine!" she assured him, clearly relieved. "C'mon, let's get ready for bed."

After getting undressed and sharing another bowl, the two of them got into Kenny's bed, Wendy wrapping her arms around the boy and spooning him from behind. He felt just as cold and stiff in her arms as he'd initially felt when she'd held him in their motel room bed in New Mexico. Lying in bed with him, she found herself growing increasingly incapable of dealing with the thought of things not being okay between them. She tried to think of anything she could do to try and fix things, anything that might help make things better.

With no other ideas, Wendy gave the boy a little squeeze. "Hey," she said quietly. "Y'know, I realized earlier... we usually fuck after selling meth... but we didn't this weekend." Her hands slid down his body until they reached his waistline, her fingers slipping inside the front of his shorts. "I know you're tired, but maybe I could--"

Kenny jerked away and out of her arms. "Oh come on," he said. The tone in his voice told her that she should've known better, that he resented the fact that she’d even thought it’d been a good idea to try. Embarrassed, she could feel tears form in her eyes as Kenny remained distant from her. She blinked them away and tried one more time to get through to the boy. She spoke quickly as she tried to keep her voice from breaking.

"K-Kenny I know you're mad at me and I know I fucked up, but I'm so sorry, I'm so, so sorry! I just, I just want to make things right, I want to make things better, but I don't know what to do!" Tears dropped on her cheeks. "Please Kenny, I don't know what to do!"

Kenny remained silent for a moment. He answered her quietly, without turning around.

"Maybe you could try not being such a fucking tornado all the time."

Wendy's heart broke at the boy's words. For the second time that day, she felt a dire need to be anywhere else but where she was. Shaken, she got out of bed and started putting her clothes back on.

"I-I'm just gonna go home," she said through the darkness of Kenny's room, her voice weak with defeat. He didn't answer, didn't say anything to stop her from leaving; and then she was gone.

Kenny buried his face in his pillow, tears in his eyes as well. As relieved as he was to be alone, he immediately regretted what he had said to Wendy – and hated that part of him still felt like she had deserved it. His emotions raged inside him until he became too exhausted to remain conscience and let sleep take him.

He dreamt once more that he was up on the roof of his apartment. It was dark; it was snowing; there was no cast on his arm. Again, he approached the ledge of the building and looked across at the opposing roof; again he returned to the center of the roof before running back to the edge and jumping off; and again he fell into the abyss below.

Kenny awoke with a start, his hair damp with sweat. Panting, he saw that his right arm was once again encased in its cast. He looked out the window and saw that it was still dark. Checking his phone confirmed that it was only past two in the morning. He dropped his phone and stared up at the ceiling, sinking deep into a state of reflection. A few moments later, he arose from his bed. He had to do it tonight.

Kenny walked through the dark to the foot of his bed, where Wendy had left the duffel bag containing the blanket he'd asked her to get. Unzipping it, he pulled it out and tossed it aside. He knelt down in front of the open bag and looked inside at what had been concealed beneath the blanket. Reaching inside, he held up something he hadn't seen in a long time: it was a light purple costume, a green letter ‘M’ emblazoned on the chest.

* * *

Opening the door to the roof, Kenny was relieved that his Mysterion suit even still fit him. He'd made some adjustments when he'd briefly started wearing it again in high school, after Kevin's death – those late nights he'd spent in North Park, beating the shit out of any meth-head or drug dealer he could come across – but he really didn't think he'd be able to get his cast through his sleeve. He'd managed in the end though, tearing the right sleeve a bit to give his arm ample room, and cuffing it just above his cast so that the fabric wouldn't flap around. Everything else was a little snug, but not enough to be a problem, or even uncomfortable.

Kenny walked out onto the roof, domino mask on his face and cape blowing in the wind. His hood just managed to stay over his head. He'd done away with the silly question mark headpiece years ago, but had it still been there the wind might have been strong enough to snap it off. Wrapping his cape around him, he walked to the edge of the building, the same side as in his dream. He stared over at the opposing roof, beyond the expanse of thin air above the alley that he'd seen himself die in twice now. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath before walking back to the center of the roof. Turning back around, he stared straight ahead, off the ledge and at the rooftop beyond it. He chewed on his bottom lip and swallowed hard, a pit forming in his stomach. Snow whipped in his face as he let his cape blow in the wind again. Before he could stop himself, he closed his eyes and took a step forward. He took another step, and then another, his pace quickening until he was running across the roof. Reaching the edge, his eyes snapped open and he took a deep breath, holding it in his chest as he propelled himself from the ground. He leapt from the roof as far as he could, soaring over the alley below towards the roof opposite his building.

Leaving the brick and pavement behind, Kenny expected to be struck by the same feeling he'd felt while falling in his dreams, the same feeling he'd felt while falling after Wendy had pushed him. But he wasn't. No, the sensation that he felt now was completely different – and that was because he wasn't falling. He was flying.

He was defying gravity.

Well, okay, Kenny wasn't flying. It may have felt like that for a moment, but then it didn't. Halfway between his roof and the neighboring building's, Kenny began to feel his arc decline as he lost altitude. With still a way to go before he reached the other roof, he made the mistake of looking down and realized that he wasn't going to make it. He wasn't going to make it. He was going to fall to his death just like in his dreams. Except it would be even worse because at least in his dream he wasn't wearing a dumbass super hero costume. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck! FUCK!

Kenny landed on the other roof, his feet touching down on the pavement, the momentum from his jump sending him sliding through the snow, nearly far enough to drop him over the far side of the building. Skidding to a halt, he fell forward onto one knee, catching himself with his left arm before he could collapse onto the roof. Jesus fucking Christ, his heart felt like it was going to explode. Breathing heavy, he stared down at the snow-covered pavement, trying to process the fact that he was still alive and that he'd actually just done that. Wait. He'd actually just done that.

Kenny lifted his head to look back over at the roof of his apartment, a manic look in his eyes as his face split into a wicked grin. Unable to help himself, he started to crack up with laughter, until he was practically doubled over on the ground. Regaining his composure but losing none of the exuberant joy that now filled him, none of invincibility that he now felt, Kenny got back up to his feet and turned around to spot the next rooftop in the series of buildings. Still grinning to himself, he bit his lip and prepared to take a running start.

Mysterion had returned.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What a hulking mammoth of a chapter this one turned out to be, huh! Who knew you'd need so many words to write about complicated emotions! It probably doesn't help that I gave Karen her own musical number and made Wendy deliver a thousand-word monologue immediately after throwing up, either. Hey though, this is the third-to-last chapter in the fic -- actually our penultimate "episode" -- so let's just enjoy it while it lasts, right. In fact, if YOU'RE enjoying it, you should let me know and leave a review!
> 
> It feels a little surreal to be typing this but next chapter will be our second season finale. After that, all we'll have left is a brief epilogue that will serve as the conclusion to the fic. That's right! It's been three years but we're almost at the end! See you guys there!


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